


The Outpost

by Skye_Writer



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Gen, Post-Tron: Legacy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-29 04:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10846215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skye_Writer/pseuds/Skye_Writer
Summary: No one knew where the virus came from. By the time they noticed it, it was too late. The Grid's factions put their differences aside and built a haven in the Outlands--the Outpost. Time passes; the Grid's programs survive. Then the Portal opens again, bringing Users back to the Grid, and what happens next may change their world forever.





	1. The Virus

**Author's Note:**

> A quick note about Grid time: This fic assumes a 1:1 ratio of Grid hours to Real World minutes, and that 1 cycle = 365 Grid "days." A decicycle is equivalent to about a month (36 days), a centicycle half a week (3.5 days), and a millicycle almost 9 hours. A microcycle is 1/1000 of a millicycle and equal to about 31 Grid seconds--so, basically a Grid "minute."

**PART ONE: INCUBATION**

**CHAPTER ONE: THE VIRUS**

Nobody knew where the virus came from. Lone explorers to the Outlands first noted its presence there, but word was not spread quickly enough. It might have roiled restlessly but harmlessly there for cycles on end, but all it took was one curious program to spread the infection to the cities. Much, much later, the plague was traced back to one program, an energy miner who unknowingly brought it with him to Tron City, whose colleagues and associates spread it from there. Tron City was the hub of the system; once the virus was there, almost nothing could stop its spread to the other cities.

The virus corrupted every sort of code it came into contact with. Buildings and vehicles and even the ground itself crumbled under its influence, and what it left behind spread the infection even further. It was less kind to programs, leaving them unaffected for some millicycles before assuming their functions and puppeting them to further itself.

They might have been able to stymie its spread, but the virus arrived in the wake of what some programs called the Departure. The User Sam Flynn had left them, to say nothing of the Creator, whose appearance in Tron City that night was still a matter of debate. And Clu, the only other leader they had, had abandoned them as well.

No one knew what had become of them. The Portal to the Users' world had closed, and it had not opened since. They were abandoned, and anarchy took over. The rebels fought the remains of Clu's forces, while the believers prayed for the Users' intervention, and everyone else tried to carry on around them. And none of them noticed the start of the infection until it was too late to stop it.

The gravity of the situation soon became clear. The rebels and the loyalists put their feud aside, the fight between freedom and perfection far outweighed by the need for survival. While some programs fled to the other cities, hoping for a place free from infection, this alliance worked to build a safe haven in the Outlands, in a region where there was no viral spread. As one cycle turned to another, the colony they built in the heart of the Outland hills became known as the Outpost, the only place on the Grid the virus hadn't reached.

**ooo**

Rho paced the length of her apartment, which wasn't saying much. More programs were arriving at the Outpost every decicycle, and space was precious. Even as fast as they were working, the excavation and building crews still couldn't keep pace with the rate of arrivals. Rho had been among the initial settlers, and so had managed to get a good space with a window overlooking the Outlands, but even back then the apartments had been small. As awful as he was, General Edis had had the foresight to realize what the Outpost would become to the Grid: a last hope.

Rho knew she should have been resting, even a little, for her work detail in the mess next millicycle. But she had something better coming up. The Nameless had told her she could come along on his next border patrol, provided she cleared it with the border guard captain, Halix, and her own superiors. Rho had naturally made certain of this, which left her here now, wondering where the Nameless could be.

She stopped pacing a moment to check the chrono beside her door. Less than 500 micros past the millicycle, so he wasn't technically running late, but still. Rho shook her head and started pacing again.

She liked doing border patrols. It was the closest she ever got to her work in the war. She'd always been a message runner, but in the war it had been different. She'd traveled through dangerous sectors of the city, keeping the rebel leaders informed of each other's plans, subverting the loyalists and fighting for the freedom of the Grid. She had loved that job. She had never been captured, and she'd only been injured a handful of times. She did the same work now at the Outpost, of course, but one didn't get nearly the same thrill from delivering orders to construction foremen or housing managers.

She volunteered for border patrol duty as often as she could, but Halix almost always refused her. Unless the Nameless had agreed to go with her first.

The Nameless commanded that kind of respect. He could have easily been a captain like Halix, but he refused all offers of promotion. Maybe it just wasn't a part of his function. No one knew who he was. He'd just turned up on the rebel lines in the middle of the war, knocking out every program who attacked him on his way to find Axel, their leader. Rho had been there when he'd shown up, had watched as he'd approached Axel, his disc burning, Axel still as a stone--

\--and then his disc snapped out, and he held it out to Axel. "I'll fight for you," he said, his voice gravelly.

"I shudder to think of fighting against you," Axel replied.

And that was how the Nameless had joined the rebel ranks.

Rho had gotten to know him because he'd been part of her guard on some of her message runs. She had actually gotten on his bad side initially, because she had a habit of ditching her escort at the first opportunity, but even after she learned not to do that, he kept talking to her, when he generally didn't talk to anyone. He helped her improve her hand-to-hand combat, and had even given her advice on outrunning pursuers. In return, she didn't ask any prying questions. He obviously had a past, what with the massive scar on the left side of his face, but he only spoke of it in broad generalities, and he never hinted at his name. He became the Nameless to everyone who knew him, and even those who feared him, and he seemed to prefer it that way.

There was a light knock at the door. Rho scrambled across the room to punch the panel that opened it. The Nameless stood on the other side, hands clasped behind him, his expression serious. "Are you ready to go?" he asked.

Rho held up her lightcycle baton. "When aren't I ready to go?"

"And you've cleared it with Halix and your supervisors?"

She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. The Nameless could be finicky sometimes, and she knew he'd refuse to let her come along if he thought she wasn't taking this seriously. "Yes, I cleared it all the way up to the top. Can we go now?"

One corner of his mouth twitched up. "You know, you're a great deal too eager for your own good."

Rho said nothing, waiting instead for what would come of this remark.

He turned away from the door. "Let's go."

She contained her glee to a mere fist-pump, then followed him out into the hallway. They were silent the whole walk to the northern vehicle hangar, but that was normal for them. Though he spoke to her the most, the Nameless had always preferred not to talk at all. Rho could stand the silence better than most programs, in part because she was so often preoccupied with her own thoughts. Today was no exception. She thought about the message runs she'd gotten out of for this excursion, and what troubles her temporary replacements might wreak in her absence. General Edis always had something to complain about after she'd had time off. The idea that he preferred her to even his own underlings made her shudder.

Things had been easier when they were at war. For a start, she had gotten out way more often.

The Nameless had to report to Halix when they reached the hangar. Rho had been cleared beforehand, of course, but it was vital to the survival of the Outpost that everyone's movements be accounted for. It took only a few micros to clear them for the run, and soon they were flying down the Outpost's perimeter road, their lightcycles humming quietly in the eerie silence of the Outlands.

"Remember to keep an eye out for viral spread," the Nameless reminded her as they rounded a curve.

"I will, I will," Rho replied. "Excuse me for trying to enjoy my freedom."

The Nameless sighed. "Remind me again why I put up with you." Rho might have been concerned but for the hint of wry amusement in his voice.

"Because I don't ask questions," Rho said. "And you think I'm spunky."

"Do I." A pause, and then he said, "Tell me what you see from the east."

Rho glanced away from the road to take in the landscape to her left. "Viral spread right against the horizon," she responded. "Makes sense, Tron City is back that way. More spread visible to the south, but that's still pretty far off." She glanced over again, trying to catch sight of the city's massive skyline, a glimpse of the home they'd all been forced to abandon.

"Oh my Us--" She slammed on the brakes, bringing her lightcycle to a skidding halt. "Nameless, look—look at the city—I mean, the sky—"

The Nameless had stopped when she had. He turned towards the eastern sky, where a clear, bright light had appeared above the reddened city skyline.

"Is that what I think it is?" Rho asked quietly.

"The Portal is open." The Nameless sounded as shocked as she felt. "There are Users on the Grid again."

"How do you know—"

"Come on," he said brusquely. "Axel and Edis need to know about this immediately."

**ooo**

They’d been ushered into General Edis’s office immediately after the Nameless shared their news with the guard. It was only luck that Axel was there as well. Together, Axel and Edis comprised the leadership of the Outpost, though they were further advised by the larger Outpost Council. The Council was not in session now, however, so their news was instead brought directly to the Outpost’s leaders.

An uncomfortable silence followed the Nameless's brief report. General Edis and Axel both looked shocked at the news, but Rho couldn't read their expressions further than that. She stood just behind the Nameless's shoulder, hands clasped tightly behind her back as she waited for word of what they would be doing next.

Edis bowed his head to his steepled hands and sighed. "Good riddance," he muttered.

Axel folded his arms, frowning. "I'm half inclined to agree with you."

"Sirs?" the Nameless said.

"Damn the Users," Edis barked, sitting back in his chair. "What good have they done this system but in building it? What help from on high have they offered us since we have come so close to collapse?"

"They may be able to help us now that they're here," the Nameless replied carefully.

"And they may only try to improve us for their own vanity!" Edis snapped back. "What we have made here is our own, and I will not let our work be taken from us. The Users have caused this system nothing but grief. First Flynn supports the Iso plague, neglecting us before bringing us to war, and then his son's follies cost us the only true leader we had—"

"Easy, General." Axel put a hand on his shoulder. He turned to the Nameless and Rho. "I don't see what can be done. Flynn always arrived in the heart of the city; we have no hope of getting there now." His eyes narrowed. "Though I can see you're on the verge of volunteering. Why?"

"Has it occurred to you what might happen if the virus infects a User?"

"I don't see how..." Axel trailed off. Rho could see both him and Edis thinking, and her own thoughts followed a similar vein. The virus infected programs at random, leaving them unharmed for four or five millicycles before corrupting them completely. They spread the infection further in this state, infecting everything from other programs to the bits of code that made up buildings.

Users could access and manipulate any code on the Grid, including, Rho assumed, the baseline code that told the system what it was and how it operated. An infected User could spread the virus to the heart of the system itself, she realized. Even here in the Outlands, they wouldn't be safe.

Edis and Axel seemed to have reached the same conclusion.

"The entire system could be compromised," the Nameless said. "Unless we act now."

Edis scoffed. "It's a fool's errand. The city must be fully corrupted by now. There's no way you could make it to the city's heart and out again without being infected."

"I could plot a course through the city," Rho said, raising one hand. "My code lets me access city maps, I can flag corrupted areas and get us through no problem. If—if that's all right," she finished lamely. She knew how unlikely it was they'd allow her on a mission this dangerous.

"We could bring a team to fight off the corrupted. Volunteers only," he added quickly, as Edis opened his mouth to protest. "A team of five, with one medtech to scan for infection, plus myself and Rho. I'm confident we can make it there and back again within a millicycle."

"And Rho?" Axel asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She's the best at what she does," the Nameless replied confidently, and Rho had to clench her jaw to keep from grinning with pride. "She'll get us in and out with all due speed."

"You were planning this," Edis said, his eyes narrowed. "Weren't you?"

The Nameless said nothing, and Rho knew his expression would give nothing away that he didn't want it to.

Edis scoffed again. "I might have known." He waved a hand at them. "You have my permission for this folly, if Axel agrees."

"With the system at stake, I don't see how I can say no," Axel said. "I'll put out the call for volunteers with the sentries. Be ready to leave in a hundred micros, both of you."

"Yes, sir," they said together, and Rho followed as the Nameless turned and exited the office.

Rho tamped down on her excitement. As thrilling as it was—a dangerous mission she might not come back from, with the whole Grid at stake—now wasn’t the time. She had a mission to prepare for, and now, more than ever, she needed to take things seriously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I'm hoping to update once every couple of weeks until Part One is complete. Part One is fully written with eight chapters total. After I finish posting Part One, there will be a break to allow me time to finish Part Two or otherwise whip it into shape.
> 
> Comments are, as ever, greatly appreciated.
> 
> (Also: if you think you know who the Nameless is, you're probably right.)


	2. The Journey

**PART ONE: INCUBATION**

**CHAPTER TWO: THE JOURNEY**

In the end, Axel’s muster among the sentries turned up only three programs, all of them former rebels: Stihl, Rydex, and Nike. The medtech, Perit, had been chosen by lot. Of the four of them, Stihl and Rydex looked excited, Nike indifferent, and Perit downright sullen.

“I know not all of you want to be here,” the Nameless said to them, “but I appreciate your coming. This mission will not be easy; we will be entering infected territory, and we may not all come back. We’ll be taking Rho’s lead. She’s plotted us a safe course to Tron City’s north gate, and from there she’ll lead us into the city to rescue the User or Users.

“Do not deviate from the prescribed course,” he said tersely. “Do not engage the corrupted unless they attack. Do not take unnecessary risks. We can’t afford any scrap of infection making its way back here.”

The sentries were all nodding, but Perit half-raised one pale hand. The Nameless nodded at her, and she said, “In the interests of not taking unnecessary risks, might I request that I not follow your party into the city? I’ll hardly be a help if I get infected, and my position here is vital to the maintenance and health of this community.”

Rho, standing just behind the Nameless at the head of the group, worked to hide her disgust. Perit was a former loyalist, red circuitry and all; of course she’d try to get out of helping any Users.

“You won’t be much safer in the Outlands,” the Nameless pointed out.

Perit only shrugged. “That may be so,” she said, “but at least the Outlands aren’t crawling with the corrupted.”

“All right,” the Nameless said. He glanced over the others, his gaze lingering on Stihl and Rydex. “Anyone else have something to say before we head out?”

“No, sir,” Rydex and Stihl said in unison. Nike only shook her head.

“Then let’s move out. Stihl, go and get two extra all-terrain lightcycles; we’ll need them to get the Users out of the city. The rest of you, come with me.”

The party rolled out of the Outpost’s eastern gate in single file: Rho had the lead, with Rydex just behind her; Nike led the large lightrunner driven by Perit, while Stihl and the Nameless brought up the rear.

Rho stared at the map on the console just below her face, memorizing as much as she could. She’d plotted it using the latest Recognizer survey maps, which showed the spread of the virus across a wide swath of terrain, all the way back to the city. With any luck, their way would be clear the whole way there, where things would then get really interesting.

She looked up at the landscape ahead of them, rocky and uneven and dark. “Everyone ready?” she asked over the comm.

Assent passed all the way down the line to the Nameless. “We’re ready,” he said. “Just remember we have to keep up with you.”

Rho grinned. “Right.” She revved her lightcycle, then shot off into the uncertain land ahead, her mind on the mission.

It didn’t take long for the silence of the Outlands to bear down around her like a weight. She hated it here, and even the sounds of the convoy behind her couldn’t dispel the creepiness of it. Rho had always been a creature of the cities; she was adventurous, sure, but that didn’t extend to the thought of spending ages in the Outlands. She’d had a lot of respect for the energy miners who would spend decicycles out here, searching for the resources that everyone in the cities needed, spending all that time out here in this silence.

She preferred the sounds of the cities. The chatter of voices, the hiss and hum of vehicles and doors, all signs of the thriving communities she’d built her life around. Those were all things she’d learned to avoid during the war, too, but that was beside the point. The silence of Tron City would never match the silence of the Outlands.

Maybe it was because the Outlands contained nothing. It was a landscape of undeveloped sectors, untouched by construction and modification, left as a space of in-between for the cities all across the Grid. Space enough had been here to begin the Outpost, and hopefully there would be space enough to expand until the Outpost held them all.

Still, that idea didn’t make the place any less eerie.

Rho shook her head as she guided her lightcycle up a ridge. She couldn’t afford to be fazed out right now. She glanced over her shoulder; Rydex was a ways behind, so she headed slowly to the top of the ridge and waited for the rest of the convoy to catch up. The lights of the Outpost were only just visible against the horizon; the place hadn’t been designed to be a beacon the way Tron City had, though she’d heard rumblings of such plans among the architects and the construction foremen.

“You all right, Rho?” the Nameless asked.

“I’m fine,” she replied. “Just waiting on you all.”

When Rydex had closed the gap between them to her satisfaction, Rho crouched back over her lightcycle and continued over the ridge and into the shallow valley below.

This constituted one of the more dangerous legs of the trip. The far southern edge of the valley had already succumbed to the virus, and the infection was spreading quickly northward. There was plenty of room to spare, of course—she wouldn’t have chosen this route if there wasn’t—but being so close to an infected area still made her nervous. She watched her speed and picked her path carefully.

They’d be close to the city when they came out of this valley. The northern gate was a short drive across a relatively smooth plain. What came next made Rho particularly nervous, though. The old gatehouses would hopefully still be standing uncorrupted, which would give her access to maps of the city. The Nameless had the location of the Portal output (how, she didn’t know, but she didn’t ask questions), and they would have to hope against everything that Rho could plot a safe, quick route for them to make it there and back again.

The plan depended on too many variables; Rho and the Nameless knew it, and so did everyone else, she feared. But if they left the Users to fend for themselves, the worst might happen, and none of them could afford to let it.

**ooo**

The red light of the corruption cast a glaring pall over them as they wheeled up to the northern gate. The infection had spread widely since any of them had last been here, giving the towers that rose up before them that reddish hue. That said, Tron City’s northern gate wasn’t in near as bad a state as Rho had feared. The Recognizers hadn’t been over this portion of the city in quite some time; she had assumed the infection would have spread out to this sector completely, but one of the gatehouses had managed to retain its integrity against the virus. That was all she needed the plot a safe route to the city’s center. Without a word, she wheeled her lightcycle all the way up to the gatehouse door before climbing off and engaging the stand. “Gimme some time,” she said over her shoulder as she touched her hand to the panel that activated the door. It opened with a hiss, and Rho headed up the stairs to the gatehouse proper.

Pulling up a map of the city on the gatehouse’s machine was simple enough, but her real work lay in interpreting it and setting a course. The map was designed to flag dangerous sectors and code breakdowns, which helped a little, but not much. The Nameless had transmitted the coordinates of the Portal output to her as they neared the city, so now it was up to her to comb through each sector and find the safest and fastest way to get there.

The Nameless looked up expectantly when she finally stepped out of the gatehouse. “Are we ready to go?” he asked.

“Yes,” Rho replied, “but…” She swallowed. “You’re not going to like this.”

“Like what?”

“We have to go through infected territory a few times. Not for very long,” she added quickly, “only for a few blocks at places. It was the only way I could fix a route that would get us back to the Outpost in time.”

The Nameless stared at her for a few long moments, then turned to the other three programs. “Do any of you have a problem with that?” he asked.

“No,” Stihl and Rydex said together, a little too enthusiastically. Rho frowned. She’d been excited about this mission as well, but she knew very well when it was time to take things seriously. These two hadn’t gotten there yet, it seemed.

“We knew what we were getting into when we accepted this mission,” Nike said, her dark face still impassive. “We’ll go where you lead.”

“Then we’d better get going.” He turned back to Rho. “If you’re ready?”

Rho nodded. She climbed back onto her lightcycle, putting the disk with the route loaded onto it on the console at the bike’s head. A map of the city appeared, with the route before them highlighted in blue. “Ready,” she called out, crouching over the handlebars.

“Ready,” the Nameless replied from the back of the line.

“Good luck,” Perit said from the safety of her lightrunner.

Rho revved her engine once, then set off. In a single file line, they reentered the city.

**ooo**

If the city had been silent, it might have been all right. But everywhere they went, they could hear the buzzes and screeches of the corrupted programs. The noise echoed amid the empty streets, throwing sound into places that stood empty. Rho tried to concentrate on the hum of her lightcycle, but it only helped a little, and was no good at all when they passed through groups of the corrupted.

The corrupted watched as they passed, but made no move to attack or otherwise follow them. It only relieved Rho a little. Any movement among them could begin the corruption of the safe ways Rho had discovered. The trip back to the Outlands might be even more difficult.

There was no point in worrying, though. Rho kept her eyes between the map before her and the streets ahead. The journey back would come in its own time. Right now they had to get to the Users as quickly as possible. She put on some speed, but only a little. Going too fast might cost them more time than save it.

Suddenly, there was a squeal behind her, followed by the Nameless’ voice bellowing across the open comm: _"Get back here RIGHT NOW!"_

Rho braked, hard, and came to such a quick stop that her lightcycle lurched forward on its front wheel. She turned around, and saw—Rydex, she thought—running a circle around a small group of corrupted before returning to his position in the middle of their group.

The Nameless was already off his lightcycle, stalking towards Rydex in what Rho recognized as barely contained fury. "Don't," he snapped as Rydex opened his mouth to say something. "Don't say a word. I don't want to hear your excuses for that little stunt, however harmless it might have seemed in your head. You do not compromise this mission and the integrity of this team by thrill-seeking. And that goes for you too," he added, turning around to address Stihl as well.

"I know who both of you are," he continued. "I looked over the list of both your write-ups when Axel told me you'd volunteered. If I'd gotten more people, neither of you would have come on this mission. But I had to make do with what I got, so here you are. I thought maybe you might have the decency to take this seriously, but I suppose I was wrong.

"If either of you deviate from course again, either now or on the way back, _we will leave you behind_. Am I understood?" He glanced between them, his jaw set and his expression one of tranquil fury.

Several long moments passed in silence. Even the nearby corrupted seemed to be watching anxiously.

"Am I—"

"Yessir," came the meek reply, delivered in perfect unison.

"Good. Nike," the Nameless said, turning to her, "I need you to fall back, keep an eye on this one." He pointed at Rydex, then turned on his heel and started back towards his lightcycle. "I've got eyes on the other. Rho," he continued over the comm, "we'll give signal and then you can go. Hopefully this delay hasn't cost us."

"Right," she replied. She settled back into position over her lightcycle, trying to concentrate again and stop shaking. The Nameless rarely lost his temper like that, but when he did, it was a thing to behold, though not if you were the object of his fury. He had dressed her down like that before, back during the war, when she thought it was quicker all around to dump her escort as soon as possible. She'd learned since then.

After a moment, the ready signal was passed up the line. She responded in kind, then took off again, hoping desperately the boys had learned their lesson. They were barely halfway to their destination, and there were more dangerous sectors ahead. Rydex might have gone ducking among the corrupted for kicks, but they were going to have to do it for real, and seriously, not too long from now. She only hoped that they could make it through unscathed.

The not-quite-silence of the city settled around them once more. Rho followed her route fastidiously, trying not to worry about what Rydex or Stihl might try to get up to. Hopefully the Nameless had convinced them of the seriousness of this mission.

Their first turn into corrupted territory was awful. Rho warned them before she made the turn, but it still was shatteringly intense. The street itself crumbled from the infection, and there were corrupted programs everywhere. Rho slowed to practically a crawl, carefully guiding her lightcycle around holes in the road and the corrupted themselves. They didn’t react to their presence; they seemed content to watch, unmoving as the convoy filed through.

Rho didn’t breathe easy until they were out of the corrupted zone. She put on a little speed, hoping to make up for any time lost creeping through those brief blocks of corruption. They’d been given less than half a millicycle to return to the Outpost. That had seemed like a lot of time back home, but now Rho was wondering if that would be enough. They had four more sections of corrupted territory to get through, a couple of them even larger than the first had been. If they had to go slow through each one, in and out of the city, would they have enough time to make it back?

 _Now’s not the time,_ she told herself. It might be a race across the Outlands in the end, but she’d picked the fastest route possible. She had to trust in herself, because everyone else was counting on her.

The next few corrupted sectors went by without any trouble, but the last one gave them a scare. Rho was making her way around a clump of the corrupted when suddenly a disc flew in out of nowhere and destroyed two of them. Rho hit the brakes in shock, but the Nameless was on the comm immediately. “Keep going,” he said. “I think they’ve finally realized we’re here.”

Rho nodded and started off again, picking up the pace considerably. She could see now that the corrupted were moving, almost as one, towards their convoy. She wove between them as deftly as she could, hoping the others were able to match her. A disc (the Nameless’, she assumed) flew in and out of her vision, destroying corrupted with ease. She still flinched every time one of them derezzed.

As soon as they were out of the corrupted sector, Rho piled on more speed. “Everyone all right?” she asked over the comm.

“We’re all here,” the Nameless confirmed. “We’re not going to have an easy time back, I’m afraid.”

“I hope no one minds if we take the rest of the journey a little faster, then,” Rho said.

“Go right ahead.”

She sped down the center of the street, taking any turns at a wide angle. She glanced behind occasionally to make sure the others were keeping up. Rydex followed a ways behind her, but he was still there, which was all that mattered.

Rho sighed in relief when she rounded a turn and saw the massive FLYNN’S sign in the distance. She put on one last burst of speed before she realized something was off.

She slowed her lightcycle down as she approached the building. “Something the matter?” Nike asked over the comm.

“All the buildings in this sector are falling apart,” Rho replied. “But the Flynn’s place looks like it’s brand new.”

“Nameless?” Nike said. “Is this some new trick of the virus?”

“We’ll only know if we go in,” the Nameless replied.

They all pulled up and stopped just outside the building, not quite daring to go in, afraid of what they might find inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments are, as ever, greatly appreciated.
> 
> If you think you know who the Nameless is, you're probably right. ;)


	3. The Users

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Minor character death.

**PART ONE: INCUBATION**

**CHAPTER THREE: THE USERS**

“All right,” the Nameless said, swinging himself off his lightcycle. “Nike, you, Rydex, and Stihl form a barricade with our lightcycles and keep an eye out for the corrupted. They’ve caught on to us now, and they may be following us from that last corrupted sector. I trust you can keep these two under control, Nike?” he added. Nike nodded, and wheeled her lightcycle around to start the barricade. Rho followed suit as she waited to hear what the Nameless wanted her to do.

“Rho,” he said to her as she climbed off her lightcycle. She turned towards him, eyebrows raised. “You can come in with me or stay out here with the others. There might be a fight either way.”

“I’ll go in,” she replied, unhooking her disc from its mount. “I can handle a fight.”

The Nameless only nodded at this. He confirmed things were ready with Nike and the others, then pulled out his disc as well. “Let’s go,” he said to Rho. She nodded, and followed him up to the doors of Flynn’s building.

He banged on the door three times with his fist, then opened it and stepped inside, Rho close behind him.

There was an immediate commotion. A disc flew straight at the Nameless, but he knocked it out of the air effortlessly. A male voice shouted, “What the hell—”

“Christ,” said another man. “Alan?”

The Nameless flinched. Rho wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. He actually _flinched_. Rho glanced between the Nameless and the three Users standing before them, her disc out and ready. And then the first man spoke again.

“ _Tron_.”

The Nameless flinched again and Rho’s jaw dropped open. “Tron?” she said, looking at him.

“Not now,” he muttered. “I know Sam Flynn,” he said, pointing to the first User, who wore a Games Grid getup and had a serious expression. “And I know you.” He pointed at the female User in Grid attire, who had apparently thrown her disc. “Who are you?” he asked the last User, a dark-haired and discless man who was crouched over a panel of open code on the floor.

“Ed Dillinger,” the User answered. “Junior. And you’re Tron?”

The Nameless’s jaw set, as though he was holding something back. “Not anymore,” he growled. Rho’s eyes widened, and her disc dropped to her side. So he _was_ Tron. Or he had been. “I take it you’ve been repairing the code here?” he said to the Users.

“Sam and Ed have,” the female User said. “This place was falling apart when we got here. Some kind of code breakdown?”

“It’s not a breakdown,” the Nameless said. “It’s a virus, and we need to get out of here, now.”

“A virus?” Sam said, his brow furrowed. “How—”

“There’s no time for questions,” the Nameless said, cutting across him. “We have to get out of the city and across the Outlands, and we’ve got less than half a millicycle to do it. Now, _come on_.” He turned and stalked out the door again, leaving Rho and the Users staring at each other.

Rho shrugged. “You might have hit a nerve with him,” she said. _A nerve I didn’t even know he had._ “He is right, though, we have to get going now. We only brought two extra lightcycles, so I guess one of you’s gonna have to double up with someone.”

“And who are you?” asked Sam.

“Rho,” she replied cheerfully. “I’m the mission navigator.” She turned to go, but paused. “I wouldn’t call him that again,” she said. “That name. He’s just the Nameless.”

Before any of them could respond, she headed out the door. The Nameless was already arranging things with Nike and Stihl and Rydex, and he had the two spare lightcycle batons in one hand. Rho walked up to him, hooking her disc on her back as she went. “What do you need me to do?” she asked.

He looked at her sidelong, as if daring her to say something about what had transpired inside. Rho just stared back. She had something to say, all right, but right here, right now, it could wait. Finally, the Nameless said, “Get ready for the journey back. You’ll be riding first again. And don’t be surprised when you look down the road.”

Rho nodded, and went to pull her lightcycle back into the center of the street, heading down a ways so the others would have enough room to form up behind her. She looked down the road—and gasped.

The corrupted were coming. Slowly, but they were coming.

**ooo**

Rho drove silently through the streets, trying to ignore the sounds of combat behind her. The Nameless’ orders had been clear: she could not stop, no matter what, until she and the Users were clear of the city. He and the sentries brought up the back of the group, derezzing corrupted left and right. The Users rode single file behind Rho, Sam and Ed doubled up while the female User, Quorra, rode solo.

The corrupted swarmed around them, slow-moving but persistent. Rho had to duck and weave among them, hoping the Users could keep up, and hoping the Nameless and the others could cut through them without trouble. Fear of infection kept her going, following her mapped route despite the corrupted programs now coming after them. The Nameless and the sentries destroyed as many as they could, so there wasn’t a swarm after them as well as before them. Rho could only hope the corrupted would give up when they reached the city’s gates. They’d never wandered into the Outlands before, and hopefully they wouldn’t start now. The last thing they needed was a chase all the way to the Outpost.

Rho took even the corrupted sectors at a fast pace. They still had to submit to viral checks outside the city, and make it back to the Outpost besides. Saving time was essential at this point.

So when Rho rounded a corner into infected territory and saw the street ahead crowded with corrupted, she put on speed and pulled out her disc. She wasn’t great at mounted combat, but cutting a path through these corrupted should be easy.

The Nameless’ voice crackled over the comm. “Rho, what are you doing?!”

“I’ve gotta clear a path!” she replied, throwing her disc. It cut through one of the corrupted before flying back to her hand.

“You do not compromise—” the Nameless said, but his voice was lost to static as she barreled into the crowd. The staticky screeches of the corrupted filled her hearing, and even as she sliced through them they crowded around her, grabbing at her arms and legs. Fear started winning out over confidence; her touch on the throttle sagged and she slowed, allowing the corrupted more purchase against her. She tried to slash with her disc, but they had grabbed her arm and were pulling it back as she slowly drove through them.

 _This was a mistake_ , she thought. _Where did they all come from? It didn’t look like there were this many. And now I’m as good as infected, because I thought I could cut through and save the Users. Damn it._

Rho tried to wrench her arm out of the grip, but they were stronger than her in such numbers. She gunned the throttle, but it did little good. They were going to overpower her and pull her from the lightcycle, and then the mission would be truly lost. _What a bit-brain I am._

And then a disc—no, multiple discs—screamed in from behind her, cutting through the corrupted around her. Her lightcycle shot forward with the weight of them gone, shaking off a few more in the process. Her right arm freed from their grasp, she derezzed the last couple hangers-on on her right. The way ahead was clear but for a few derezzing holes in the road.

“Rho—” the Nameless began, his voice angry.

“I know,” she replied, weary not with him but with herself. It’d been a while since she’d screwed up this badly. She glanced at her map and made a wide left turn onto the next street. “That was an unnecessary risk that could have compromised the mission. And I’m probably infected now thanks to my own show-off stupidity.”

Silence filled the comm for a few moments. “Apology accepted,” the Nameless finally said. “Don’t do it again.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rho drove on, her mind back on the mission and their route to freedom. She avoided corrupted programs, swinging wide around them instead of cutting close like she’d done before. There seemed to be fewer and fewer of them the closer they got to the northern gate. Perhaps they’d all migrated to the city center to try and catch them, leaving fewer to the outskirts. Whether Rho was imagining it or not, she was grateful, but she didn’t breathe easy until she saw the northern gate before her.

She put on a burst of speed when she saw the gatehouses, one that took her over the bridge and into the Outlands. She kept driving till she just passed the lightrunner, where she slid into a stop. Perit, who’d begun climbing out of the lightrunner when Rho crossed over, rolled her eyes and went to check in with the Nameless, her med equipment at hand.

Rho engaged the stand on her lightcycle and swung one leg over the side so she could sit comfortably, with both feet on the ground. She watched as the Nameless introduced the Users to Perit, and then as Perit began her scans on Sam Flynn. The scanning process grew boring after a few micros, though, so she turned her attention to the Nameless.

Tron. His name was Tron. _The_ Tron, the protector of the Grid, who’d vanished in the first war, who’d inspired vigilantes to take up his mantle in places as far away as Argon City. And she’d been friends with him for nearly three cycles! She couldn’t believe she’d never guessed who he was, but then again, she’d never been all that familiar with Tron’s face to begin with. The massive scar on the side of his face probably drew attention away from any familiar features. He wore Tron’s symbol, too, but many programs did, to show they remembered and upheld the ideals of the Grid’s first security program.

The Users had recognized him right away, though. She wondered how _that_ was possible. Ed Dillinger had called him a different name, though. “Alan.” Rho frowned, turning the name over in her head. Maybe Alan was Tron’s User? She doubted she’d ever find out for sure; that was a far more personal question than even asking what his name was.

She was dying to know the truth, but she knew getting it would be a monumental task in itself. That was the whole basis of their relationship; she didn’t ask questions, and in return her helped her out and sometimes let something slip about his past. If she asked him if it was true, what would she be putting at stake?

Rho shook her head. She’d have to come up with a tactful way to ask. For now she needed to concentrate on her present. Like the fact that she might well be infected with the virus. What would they do if she was? They still needed her to lead the party back across the Outlands. Could she lead them back if she was infected? Would the Nameless and Perit even let her? The Nameless had probably memorized their route on the way out; he could probably lead them back no problem. Which left her to… what? Go back into the city and join the corrupted? Find a likely spot out here and fall on her disc?

Rho took a deep breath. There was no use worrying until she had to submit for the scan. This was her own fault, really, but getting anxious about her fate was pointless. So instead she returned her attention to watching Perit scan the others, hoping for the best but expecting the worst.

**ooo**

Rho discovered her fate much sooner than she’d anticipated. The Nameless asked Perit to scan her after she was done with the Users (who, despite mucking around with corrupted code, were one and all virus-free) and himself. She stood before Perit with her arms folded behind her back, shaking a little from sheer nervousness. She’d made a big mistake piling into that crowd of the corrupted and now she was going to find out what it was going to cost her. “Heard you got into a scrape on the way back,” Perit remarked coolly as she tapped at her scanner. Rho fought back a wince; so the Nameless had told her.

“What’s it to you, exactly?” Rho shot back. She really wasn’t in a mood to be kind at the moment.

“Not much, really,” Perit responded with a shrug. “It’s important to know what my patients have been up to before I begin the scan, so I know what to look for.”

“Right.” Rho clenched her jaw, determined not to respond to anything else Perit had to say.

“I must say, though, you’re looking clear so far. You may have gotten lucky.”

Rho tried not to let her relief show; she didn’t want to be grateful to someone like Perit, who kept wearing loyalist colors even though they were all on the same side now. She wondered if Perit had kept her thoughts to herself when she was scanning the Users. Maybe she did. Rho couldn’t begin to guess, to be honest; she didn’t hang around much with the loyalist crowd.

She watched as Perit silently worked on the scan, touching parts of the scanner here and there at random intervals. Rho hoped she was lucky. She’d been lucky a lot during the war, especially back when she used to dump her escorts. She’d never been captured. For the most part, she attributed that to her skill as a navigator and her knowledge of the city, but now she wanted to believe that she was lucky. Lucky might get her through this alive, and she wanted to survive, not become more fodder for the virus’ spread.

Perit’s scanner beeped three times. “You’re clear,” she said, and Rho couldn’t help it—she sagged with relief. Perit gave her a smile that was more like a smirk and said, “You’re welcome.” She walked away, back to the Nameless, and as soon as her back was turned, Rho rolled her eyes. What was she even supposed to be thanking Perit for? For delivering good news?

She wandered up to the Nameless as Perit walked off to scan one of the others. “I’m clear,” she said quietly to him.

“I heard,” he replied.

“Doesn’t make up for what I did,” Rho continued, “but hey, I guess I’m lucky.” She smiled a little.

“Good for you,” he said. “And I hope you’ve learned once again that pulling dangerous stunts doesn’t pay.”

“Of course.” She paused, thinking, then added, “Even if I suffered no consequences whatsoever?”

The Nameless smiled, just barely. “Forgive me for giving you a little credit.”

Rho smiled back. She opened her mouth to respond, but her thoughts were cut off by a shout from behind her.

“No! NO!” Stihl was backing away from Perit, tearing at his hair frantically. “It’s not—”

“It’s true,” Perit said over him. “I’ve run this check hundreds of times and it’s never been wrong. You’re infected, Stihl.”

Silence followed these words, but not for long.

“How?!” Stihl demanded. “I never went near those things! And _she_ ”—here he pointed at Rho, who flinched—”got caught right in a pack of them—and she’s clean?”

“I don’t pretend to know how to virus works,” Perit replied, “only that does. Rho got lucky; you didn’t. Figure out what you want to do, and leave me out of it.” She turned away from him, which seemed to Rho a little tactless, but what did she know. “Rydex!” Perit called, but the other program was nearly as distraught as his friend.

“—man, I don’t know what to say…”

Stihl lurched towards Rydex, clearly looking for comfort, but Rydex backed away, his hands up. “I-I can’t, man,” he said. “You might infect me.”

“What’s going on?” asked the User Ed, approaching the pair. The Nameless caught him by the shoulder.

“Don’t. We can’t risk any of you getting infected.”

“Why not?” asked Sam, stepping up behind Ed. “What’s going on here? You said there was a virus, but you haven’t explained anything.”

“Sam, we don’t have time—”

“You’ve got until I’m done scanning Rydex,” Perit called from where she was working with Nike. “That’s plenty of time.”

“Works for me,” Sam said. “So explain, Tr—Nameless.”

The Nameless sighed. “The virus infects everything it comes into contact with—programs, buildings, vehicles, anything with code. It’s worse with programs. They seem fine for a few millicycles before they become those things you saw in the city. But before then, they can infect anything and everything they come into contact with. Stihl is no longer an asset to us, he’s a risk, and I won’t let you risk yourself by trying to repair him like you did your father’s building.”

“But that worked, didn’t it?” Quorra said. “And who’s to say Users can even get infected with this virus? They don’t have code like we—like programs do.”

 _Interesting slip,_ Rho thought, but before she could consider it longer, the Nameless spoke again.

“Flynn once told—how Users had a code of their own, that defined them as much as our code defines us,” he said. “We don’t know anything about this virus except that it’s good at what it does—infecting things. And I will not let the first Users this Grid has seen in five cycles put themselves and this system at risk for a chance at saving one program.”

The Users all looked stunned. “That’s pretty heartless,” Sam said. “Dad would have—”

“—would have wanted you safe,” the Nameless finished. “And I imagine that would have gone for your friends as well. I can’t let you help him. There’s too much at stake. We’ve learned to take our losses here. We’ll survive.”

Stihl, who had been listening, grew incensed at this. “Don’t talk about me like I’m already gone,” he shouted, lunging towards the Nameless. “You archaic piece of—”

Whatever he was going to say died in his throat, which now had the Nameless’ disc against it. “Don’t,” the Nameless said. “We both know you want to go out with more dignity than this. So calm down and decide.” He lowered his disc, and Stihl gulped, nodding as he backed away slowly.

“Rydex,” Stihl said, his voice weary now.

Rydex, in the middle of being scanned by Perit, turned around. “Yeah?”

“Will you do it?” Stihl asked. “Will you—” He gulped again, unable to get the words out.

Rho watched, chewing the inside of her lip. She’d heard about things like this happening, on the journeys to the Outpost or else at the Outpost gates themselves. Programs, learning they were infected, asked friends to derezz them rather than face the unforgiving Outlands or the haunted cities. She had never thought she’d witness it firsthand, though. It made the pit of her feel hollow, and she was, morosely, glad all over again that she had avoided infection. (She would have asked the Nameless to do it. And she knew he would have complied.)

“I—” Rydex had to collect himself as much as Stihl. “Yeah. I’ll do it.”

“Thanks,” Stihl said, his expression tight.

They waited until Perit had finished her scans (Nike was clean, and so was Rydex). The two programs stood before each other, Rydex with his disc out while Stihl stood with arms clamped to his sides. “Make it quick and clean,” the Nameless said. Rydex nodded. He and Stihl were both shaking.

Rydex ignited his disc and raised it, but hesitated.

“Just do it!” Stihl cried.

Rydex screwed his eyes shut and let out a long cry as he slashed out with all his might. He struck true, and Stihl dissolved into voxels of infected code, dropping in a heap and scattering around Rydex’s feet. Rydex fell to his knees, his head bowed. It sounded like he was crying.

Rho looked away, uncomfortable. _That could have been me. That_ should _have been me._ She sighed, folding her arms. She glanced at the Users, to see how they were taking this. They all looked about how she felt, though the trace of guilt on Sam’s face surprised her. _He really wanted to save him, didn’t he?_ she thought. _Strange_.

The Nameless gave Rydex just a few micros before walking up to him and hauling him to his feet. “Come on. We have a mission to complete.”

The drive back to the Outpost went quickly and without incident. Rho piled on the speed where she could, anxious to make it back home, where the virus could not touch them.


	4. The Meeting

**PART ONE: INCUBATION**

**CHAPTER FOUR: THE MEETING**

They were met by a pair of basic sentries before they even completed viral checks at the northern gate. Sam and the others looked taken aback, but the Nameless had been expecting this. Axel and Edis were not the types to waste time.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked as they were ushered out of the quarantine chamber. “These guys look like Clu’s—”

“They’re not,” the Nameless said. “A truce was brokered two cycles ago.”

“Oh.”

“The Council will see you now, Users,” said one of the sentries. “They have many questions for you.”

“I could say the same thing,” Sam said quietly.

“The Council’s meeting?” Rho asked the sentry. “I thought their next meeting wasn’t until three millicycles from now.”

“Emergency session,” the sentry replied. “ _Closed_ to the public.”

Rho didn’t do a good job of hiding her disappointment. The Nameless felt relieved, however. He took Rho by the shoulder and guided her down the corridor towards one of the messes, away from the guards and the Users and any remembrance of his past. They had things to discuss.

“Nameless,” one of the sentries growled. “The Council wants a mission report. Come with us.”

His hand dropped to his side. He glanced over his shoulder at them. “Axel and Edis can have my report later. I don’t think—”

“Axel and Edis requested your presence,” the sentry replied. “Do you defy their will?”

The Nameless clenched his jaw. The scar on his face throbbed, as it often did when he grew angry. He could tear these sentries apart without any effort. He could take a lightcycle, run away—

No. He was here for the good of the system. If he had to spend a little time telling the Council what they didn’t want to hear, so be it. He would just have to hope Sam and the others would keep their mouths shut about who he really was.

“We’ll talk later,” he said to Rho, who nodded. She still looked disappointed, but that wasn’t his problem right now. He clasped her shoulder briefly, then turned to the guards. “Let’s go.”

**ooo**

The Outpost Council was comprised of seven members, including Axel and Edis. In addition to the Outpost leaders, the five remaining programs included one loyalist from Clu’s army, one rebel from Axel’s faction, and three neutral programs who had not taken sides in the war. It was as close a balance as they could achieve, and every program was respected by the Outpost’s residents to some degree or another.

The Nameless stood in the center of the Council chambers, the sentries at attention to his right and left, and Sam, Quorra, and Ed just behind him. He had finished giving his report on the mission to Tron City, including the loss of Stihl and Rho’s reckless behavior.

“Thank you, Nameless,” Axel said from his position in the center of the Council bench. “It’s a pity about the loss of Stihl; we can’t afford to lose many more sentries these days.”

“With all due respect, Axel,” snapped Conin from two seats down, “reckless sentries are not why we are _here_.” Conin, a former lieutenant of Edis’, often voiced his impatience, and the Nameless knew he had very little respect for Axel at all. Axel had done nothing to deserve it but be on the wrong side of the war, at least in Conin’s eyes. The Nameless did not hold him in high regard.

“What of the Users, Axel?” Conin asked.

“Yes,” said Atana from the far left, her voice almost dreamy. “The Users.” She craned in her seat to get a better look at them. The Nameless repressed an urge to move and block them from her view. Atana was a devout believer in the Users, and he knew she thought they would hold all the answers to their plight. “What have they to say about all this? Stand aside, Nameless, let them speak.”

The Nameless raised his eyebrows, but stepped to one side as instructed. He glanced back at Sam and the others, all of whom looked uncertain. The Council, on the other hand, looked expectant.

This was not going to end well.

Sam stepped forward, into the Nameless’ view. He rubbed the back of his head, then sighed. Silence followed for several interminable moments. “We had no idea this was happening,” he said at last.

Only Axel and Edis remained calm at this pronouncement. Atana looked aghast, and the other two neutrals appeared shocked. Conin and Eckert, the rebel lieutenant on the Council, were in agreement for once; their expressions were thunderous but unsurprised. A babble of conversation began, but was stopped short by General Edis.

“Order,” he called over the din, and the Council fell silent as one. Edis glanced among his peers, then down at Sam Flynn. “It surprises me little that you had no knowledge of this. You Users always have your minds on other things, it seems.”

“Greater concerns than we are privy to, Edis—” Atana began, but Edis only had to look at her to cut her short.

“But it has been three cycles,” Edis continued. “Three cycles, and all we have built has been destroyed. Had it not occurred to you, son of Flynn, that the Grid might require your attention?”

“There’s—I didn’t—” Sam stammered. Edis had not raised his voice, but his displeasure was palpable.

“There’s a dilation of time,” Quorra said, stepped forward to stand beside Sam. “My name is Quorra. I’m a program who escaped to the User’s world with Sam. There’s a dilation of time between their world and ours,” she repeated. “One cycle here is only about seventeen millicycles out there. Only a fraction of a User’s cycle has passed for us since we left. We accessed the Grid and opened the Portal only a handful of micros ago out there, and when we return only a few more micros will have passed. Time here moves more quickly than in the Users’ world. Sam’s right when he says we had no idea about the virus. We’re here to help now. I hope that’s enough.”

“Hardly,” Conin spat. He peered at Quorra. “What manner of program are you?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Quorra replied calmly. The Nameless was impressed. He knew what she was. He remembered that much. She was standing up to one of her old (and possibly current) enemies with hardly a bat of her eye.

“It’s not,” Axel said. “If we could get back to the matter at hand… The virus has brought this system to its knees, Users. We realize you have only been here a short while, and must leave sooner than any of us would like, but what sort of a plan do you have? Can the virus be stopped, or even turned back? What are you going to do?”

Sam and Quorra exchanged an uneasy glance, as if neither of them knew what to say. One look at the Council bench told the Nameless how anxious they were for answers, and how likely it was one of them would start making demands. Someone had to say something, and soon, or else—

“We need to study it before we can form any plan,” said the third User, Ed. He stood a little behind Sam and Quorra, but didn’t flinch when the entire attention of the room fell on him. “If we don’t understand how this virus works, we can’t do anything to stop it.”

“We know how the virus works,” said Haibt, one of the neutral programs. “It uses programs like us to spread itself throughout the system.”

“All right,” Ed replied coolly. “Can you tell me what part of your code it exploits to spread itself? Or how it spreads in the landscape out there—”

“The Outlands,” Quorra provided quietly.

“—the Outlands, all right, without any programs to facilitate its movement?”

Haibt’s lips tightened, but she said nothing.

“Be that as it may,” Edis said, “we cannot risk you catching the virus yourselves. If you spread the virus to the system’s base code, you will doom us all.”

“If you don’t let us study it, then you’re already doomed,” Ed replied simply, spreading his hands. “It’s that simple.”

Edis gave him a look that might have shaken an ordinary program, but the User seemed wholly unaffected. “You do not understand our problem, User,” Edis said, his voice low but perfectly audible in the large chamber. “Users have never faced a problem of this magnitude—”

Ed shook his head. “We have viruses on our world, too. We only stop them if some people risk themselves to find a treatment and a vaccine.”

“A vac—what?” The whole Council looked rather confused, but to see that expression on Edis’ face was rare indeed.

“A vaccine,” Quorra said. “It’s a preventative treatment Users use to stop viruses from spreading, by offering an immunity to a disease that might cripple or kill them. It’s… possible”—she glanced at Sam and back at Ed—”that we might be able to create one for the virus here. But, as Ed says, we can only devise such a treatment if we are able to study the virus.”

“You insist on this, then?” Axel said. “Risking yourselves and putting the system in danger?”

The three of them exchanged a glance, and then Sam turned back towards the Council bench. “We do.”

“It’s essential that we begin the study as soon as possible,” Quorra added. “We will have to return to the Portal before it closes.”

Edis sighed. “But of course.”

Axel spared him a look before returning his attention to the Users and Quorra. “We have light jets that can make the journey in an eighth millicycle. That leaves you half a millicycle to conduct your study. Will that be sufficient time?”

The three shared a moment of hushed conversation that the Nameless was certain only he could hear.

“How long is a—”

“Millicycle’s about eight hours,” Sam explained. “So that leaves us—”

“Almost four and a half hours,” Quorra said. “It’s closer to nine hours than eight. I… did some calculations.”

They turned as one back to the Council. “We’ll make it work,” Sam said. “Thank you.”

“Very well,” Axel said. “The Nameless will serve as your escort and security, if he has no objections?”

The Nameless shook his head. He had security work within the Outpost, but he was certain Axel and Edis would let Halix know what was what. His conversation with Rho—for he knew she would want answers after what she heard in the city—could wait until after the Users were safely returned home.

“Then I declare this meeting of the Outpost Council dismissed.”


	5. The Study

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness of this. I've been dealing with a lot of personal stuff lately, and editing/posting kind of fell by the wayside.

**PART ONE: INCUBATION**

**CHAPTER FIVE: THE STUDY**

They took a four-seat lightrunner from the Outpost to the edge of an infected zone towards the north. As Sam and Ed began their work examining the sector’s code, Quorra and the Nameless kept their distance. The Nameless watched them, eyes out for any sign they might be in danger, though he knew there were no corrupted in the Outlands. But he had been given an assignment, and he intended to do his duty.

Quorra watched him, her expression thoughtful. He ignored her, until she spoke.

“Why don’t you want them to know who you are?”

He glanced at her, then returned his attention to the Users. “I could ask you the same question,” he replied.

Silence. She was taken aback, perhaps. Eventually, she said, “So you remember me.”

He didn’t reply.

“You know why I can’t tell them,” she said at last. “The loyalists on that Council would call for my deresolution. Maybe even some of the others, I don’t know. We were never very popular here, you know.”

“I know.”

They watched the Users in silence for a little while. Sam and Ed spoke quietly as they combed through the code; the Nameless could only just make out the words. “This barely makes sense,” Ed was saying. “What was your father thinking—”

“I don’t think it’s supposed to make sense,” Sam replied.

“Then how are we supposed to know what’s wrong and what’s right?”

Quorra spoke again, drawing his attention away from the Users. “You didn’t answer my question. Why don’t you want them to know?”

“They don’t need to know.” He looked at her. “You know who I was, what I meant to this system. What happened to me.” He clenched his jaw as memories threatened to resurface. Silence followed, but Quorra said nothing to fill it. She waited, and as the memories faded, he continued, “Do you really think they’d be happy if I suddenly returned?”

“All right.” Quorra met his eyes, but the Nameless looked away from her. She said, “Do you think Rho is going to keep her mouth shut after what she heard?”

“She’s a message runner,” he replied tersely. “Keeping her mouth shut around the wrong people is practically her function. She knows better than to run her mouth, especially about me.”

He saw Quorra nod out of the corner of his eye. She clasped her hands in front of her as she looked back at Sam and Ed. “I do hope we can help the system. None of you deserve what’s happened. Though I wonder if it’s for the best.”

“We’re united again,” he agreed. “That might never have happened otherwise. But it’s pointless if the system fails.”

“A Pyrrhic victory.”

He gave her a confused glance. “A what?”

“Oh, sorry.” Quorra shook her head. “It’s a User expression. There was a general, Pyrrhus, who fought a great battle and won. But he suffered so many losses in his army and among his friends that it might as well have been a loss. Peace has won out on the Grid, but it may be for nothing.”

He nodded. “So even Users have wars. We used to think they were so infallible. And then Flynn came along and showed us how wrong we were.”

“But you knew Flynn before the Grid, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” the Nameless replied. “I was so stunned when he told me that Users didn’t have a plan, or a grand design. Everything we’d believed in was… wrong. They only knew as much as we did.”

“The Users only just understand their world,” Quorra remarked. “Some of them even believe in a kind of User of their own, one who created their whole world, and who has a plan for every one of them. It’s… very strange.”

“It sounds strange. I wonder what Clu would have thought, if he’d made it there.”

“He would have destroyed it,” Quorra said simply. “It’s beautiful and strange and imperfect. I can’t even begin… But he’s gone. He can’t hurt anyone or anything anymore.”

The Nameless’ brow furrowed. “Gone?”

“Flynn reintegrated him.” Quorra looked at him, blinking a few times. “Did you not know?”

“Nobody knows what happened to Clu,” he replied. “He disappeared along with Flynn and Sam, the last time the Portal was open. You’re saying he was reintegrated? But then Flynn—”

“He’s gone, too,” Quorra said, her expression tightening. “They’d been apart too long for the reintegration to do anything but destroy them. It’s… it’s been hard. For Sam especially.”

The Nameless didn’t know what to say. He glanced at Sam, who remained absorbed in the code beneath his fingertips, talking still with Ed. He knew how much Sam had meant to Flynn, and he could only assume that Sam felt the same way about his father. Flynn had been trapped here, hidden away from Clu and the system at large, for near on a thousand cycles. He knew that was a much shorter period for Users in their world, but… the Nameless had only been Flynn’s friend. Flynn had explained the concept of family and relations among Users. The Nameless could not imagine Sam’s feelings. Or perhaps he could, because Yori…

No. He steered his thoughts away from the past, from her, and back to the task at hand. It was nearing time for them to go. From what Sam and Ed were saying, it sounded like they were getting somewhere. But returning them all to the Portal was essential. Breakthroughs would, unfortunately, have to wait.

A thin beeping emitted from the lightrunner behind them; the alarm the Nameless had set on the vehicle’s chrono was going off. “Time to go,” he called to the two Users, who looked up from their work.

“But I think we’re—” began Ed.

“Doesn’t matter,” the Nameless said, striding forward. “If we’re to return to the Outpost and get a lightjet in time to return you to the Portal, we have to go now. I won’t have you three getting stuck here, nor would the Council, I think. Now let’s go.”

Ed opened his mouth to argue, but Sam stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “He’s right. We can try and figure this out from the outside, all right?”

Ed gave Sam a burning glare, but stood up when he did. The Nameless gestured them towards the lightrunner, and in a few micros they were off.

**ooo**

The journey back to the Portal was by and large silent. The Nameless piloted the lightjet, while Quorra took the co-pilot’s seat. The two Users sat in what would ordinarily be the gunners’ positions, but the lightjet had not been used in combat since the days of the Departure and the war.

One thing the Nameless hadn’t been expecting was the view their trip afforded them of the virus’ spread. They flew directly over Tron City, of course, but over other cities as well, all of them succumbing to the virus. Recognizer patrols had the area around the Outpost pretty well mapped, but they never ventured far from home for fear of infection. The farther they got from Tron City, the more they saw of the virus’ prevalence. The Nameless made mental notes on the new terrain, to report back to the Council on his return.

Quorra also seemed to be taking in the viral spread, her expression growing more troubled the longer they flew. Sam and Ed, meanwhile, spoke quietly about whatever it was they had discovered or been close to discovering back in the Outlands. The Nameless rather doubted they were looking outside, and he didn’t blame them. They held the fate of the system in their hands, not an easy burden to shoulder, especially after that nearly disastrous meeting with the Council. He left them to it, not bothering to eavesdrop on a conversation he only half understood. He knew the Council would expect him to report on what they said, but he didn’t care. He could tell them the minds of the Users were beyond him, and most of them would believe him. He doubted Axel or Edis would, though.

He had to calm himself when they pulled out over the Sea of Simulation. The wind blew, rattling the lightjet, and the waves roiled silently below them. He remembered the last time he had been here all too clearly. The fight and flight, the conflict within coalescing into a simple truth—

He shook his head, trying to shed the memories, but others emerged to take their place. He remembered being crashed against the rocky shore of the Sea and slowly regaining consciousness amidst the pain. He remembered retracting his helmet and feeling the wind against his face for the first time in hundreds of cycles. And he remembered the determination that drove him into action, into that long trek across the Outlands and back to Tron City.

“Are you all right?” Quorra asked, and he came back to himself. The lightjet was in a slight climb; Quorra had her hands on her controls.

“Fine,” he said gruffly.

“I can bring us into the Portal landing area,” Quorra said quietly. “We had to rebuild it from the outside, but I think we’re nearly there.”

He blinked, staring at his hands on the controls but not in control. He nodded at Quorra, then swiveled his seat to face Sam and Ed. “When should we expect you back? The Council will want to know, and I have to give them something if you haven’t solved the problem of the virus.”

The two Users exchanged a glance. “We think we understand the virus,” Sam said slowly, “but… we don’t have a cure yet. We need time to work, and figure out logistics…”

“Like how we’re going to survive coming back,” Ed pointed out. “We can’t pull another Escape from New York like we did this time. Can we move the entrance point?”

“Might be able to figure it out from the other side?” Sam shrugged. “Alan might have an idea.”

The Nameless clenched his jaw, but said nothing at the mention of his User. “I just need to know when you’ll be back,” he said. “If we can avoid another adventure in the city”—he had no idea what “Escape from New York” meant; it must be another strange User expression—”that would be best. That cost us valuable time, and if you’re only going to be here for a millicycle, we need all the time we can get.”

“You think we’ll have something figured out by tomorrow?” Sam asked Ed. “Or the next day?”

“I need a break just from this excursion, and we both have work to do at Encom,” Ed pointed out. “I can only juggle so many things at once. Wednesday will be fine.”

“Same time?”

“Same time.”

“So… forty-eight hours on our side. I have no idea how long that will be for you guys—”

“About three point two nine decicycles,” Quorra said from beside the Nameless. She flipped a few switches on the main console; they were beginning their descent towards the Portal.

“All right,” the Nameless said. “Thank you.” He turned his seat back around, and watched as Quorra brought the lightjet in for the landing. It had been a long time since he’d last been here. Things had been different. They were different still now.

He accompanied the Users and Quorra up the stairs to the Portal proper. Everything was the same as it had been: the high winds, the narrow and railless bridge, the bright vortex of light. Sam stopped short when he saw it all, and Quorra put her arm around his shoulders, waiting until he moved again. She glanced back at Ed and the Nameless, who were, it seemed, equally confused.

“This is where the reintegration happened,” Quorra explained. “Where Flynn died.”

“Oh,” Ed said softly. The Nameless nodded stoically. There was a little time still before the Portal closed; they could spare a few moments for Sam’s grief.

“Do you think… he’s still here somewhere?” Sam asked, his voice thick with emotion.

“I don’t know,” Quorra said. “Maybe. Their code might be somewhere. I don’t know.” She patted his shoulder. “We need to go, before the Portal closes. We have no way of telling Alan to open it up again.”

“Okay.” Sam sniffed, then ran a hand over his face as he composed himself. “Sorry. Let’s go.”

“It’s all right,” Quorra said. She turned back to the Nameless. “Thank you for your help. Hopefully we’ll have something when we return.”

The Nameless nodded. “Best of luck to you,” he said.

They crossed the bridge slowly, and entered the light of the Portal, which thrummed and pulsed as Sam raised his disc to the sky. A flash of light made the Nameless blink, and they were gone. The Portal flickered, then vanished. He stood in relative darkness.

Three decicycles was a long time on the Grid. He hoped the Outpost could survive that long, and that the Users would not return to a Grid fully corrupted.


	6. The Truth

**PART ONE: INCUBATION**

**CHAPTER SIX: THE TRUTH**

Rho sighed as she filled another half dozen glasses with energy. Working the mess was always rather thankless, and Mess 3 seemed to be busier than usual this millicycle. She had the worst job, too: filling the glasses was finicky work, especially since every bit of energy they mined out here was precious. Spilling even a drop was frowned upon. She tried not to spill, but she found herself easily distracted.

For one, none of her coworkers would leave her alone. By now it seemed half the Outpost had heard about the mission to recover the Users, and nobody seemed keen on keeping the members of the rescue party secret. Rho had fielded half a dozen questions when she’d arrived for her mess detail, and every now and then one of the programs on detail with her would find their way over to her and ask another question.

“What’s it like in the city?”

“Who are the Users?”

“Has the Creator returned?”

“Has Clu?”

She answered as best she could, but she couldn’t handle all of the questions when she still had so many of her own. Could Sam Flynn and Ed Dillinger Junior and Quorra really save them all? What had happened in that private Council meeting?

And most important of all: was the Nameless really Tron?

She filled another tray with glasses full of energy and pushed it through a cubby window to the mess line proper. The chatty atmosphere of the mess hall suddenly dropped to near silence. Rho peered through the window and immediately saw why: the Nameless had arrived.

Whispers followed him as he strode up to the mess line and spoke to Thia, the Mess 3 supervisor. Even from her spot at the window, Rho couldn’t make out what they were saying. The Nameless hadn’t even looked at her, though she supposed he had no reason to. He knew this was her work detail today, but who said he was coming here for her? Maybe he just wanted a chat with Thia.

Thia turned suddenly, her eyes landing on Rho with all the force of a physical blow. Rho started, knocking her head on the top of the window before hurriedly backing out of sight and into the work table behind her. Glasses rattled at the impact, but thankfully they were all empty.

Thia’s face appeared at the window. “Rho,” she said.

“Yes?” Rho asked, rubbing the back of her head.

“Nameless is coming back; he wants to talk to you. You’ve got thirty micros.”

“Okay.”

Thia’s face disappeared, and the door to the workline opened. The Nameless stepped in, looking utterly out of place in his armor. He looked at Rho, then motioned with his head towards a door that led further back. She nodded, and followed him into pump room.

Two programs sat in a corner of the room, chatting instead of going about their work. The Nameless gave them a look; the pair of them immediately got to their feet and vacated the premises, leaving Rho and the Nameless alone in the noisy room. It was here the liquid energy was pumped from the underground refinery and into the reservoir that allowed programs like Rho to fill glasses up for public consumption. She had a feeling the Nameless had decided to come back here for a reason: it was private, and it was loud enough that eavesdroppers would be discouraged.

The Nameless folded his arms and leaned with his back against the reservoir tank, not looking at Rho. “You can ask three questions,” he said over the din of the machinery.

Rho swallowed. She had far more than three questions, but she knew better than to press her luck with him. The first would have to be the one that was bugging her the most, but she didn’t know how to ask it. She almost didn’t want to say that name out loud, in case the very walls were listening.

But she had to know.

“Are you really—who the Users say you are? You—I thought you only wore his emblem because you believed in him, but they said—that name, and you flinched. I’ve never seen you do that before.” She looked up into his face, something she had not dared do when the question was in her mouth.

His jaw had clenched; she could see the tension in his cheek and temple. The scar that spread across his face seemed darker, but that might have only been the light. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Rho knew her brief break was slipping away, and that the chance for more questions was as well, but she held her peace. She only needed the answer to this. Everything else could wait for another time.

Finally, the Nameless let out a long breath. The tension seemed to spiral out of his body. “It’s true,” he said, bowing his head. “I am.”

Rho let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. A dozen more questions sprang to mind, but she only had two left. She asked, “How did they know it was you?” She didn’t ask: how has no one recognized you, in all this time? Where have you been all these cycles? Where did you go? Why did you return in time for the end of the war?

“They know my User,” the Nameless said. “Alan_1…” He sighed. “I’m not going to tell you my life story, Rho.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Rho replied, though she was aching to know. “Last question.” She thought, trying to figure out how to phrase her other questions as statements, how to ask them without actually asking. “What happened to you? We all… well, some of us wondered what happened to you, back during the first war. You vanished and we thought… I thought maybe you’d come back and overthrow Clu and his goons and give the system back to its programs. But you didn’t, and now… you’re back. Sort of.”

“I think that was more than one question,” the Nameless said, one corner of his mouth turned up in a slight smile. Rho looked down at her feet, embarrassed. But the Nameless kept talking.

“The long of it… we don’t have time for. The short of it is… Clu.” The smile vanished; his usual stony expression returned. “Clu happened to me.”

Rho stared, but said nothing else. She supposed that was the end of the conversation, though—she checked the chrono above the door they’d come in by—she still had a handful of micros left before she had to go back to work.

“Ask about something else,” the Nameless said suddenly; Rho jumped. She turned, and he was smiling a little again. “I know you,” he said. “You’re dying to know about half a dozen things, aren’t you?”

Rho bit her lip, thinking. It was true, so… “How did that Council meeting go? I heard some believers talking about how Atana wasn’t very pleased with how it turned out.”

“The Council meeting was nearly a disaster, and Atana is only upset that she learned the truth.”

“Which is?”

“Users are just as fallible as we are.”

“Oh. Makes sense, given what happened with Flynn, I guess. Still… do the Users have a solution yet?” This was the question that the other programs had asked her the most, and she wondered if the Nameless knew the answer.

“They might soon, but not yet. They won’t be back for three point two nine decicycles, so we won’t know until then.”

Rho’s jaw dropped. “ _Decicycles_?” she exclaimed. “But—anything could happen—”

“I know,” the Nameless said. “But time moves differently in their world. Three decicycles for us isn’t even ten millicycles for them.”

She blinked. “Really?”

The Nameless nodded. “Really.” His eyes flicked to the chrono on the wall. “I think our time’s up.” He straightened up and gently steered her towards the door. “I don’t have to tell you not to—”

“Not a bit or a byte will escape my lips,” Rho assured him.

“Good.” He closed the door behind them, and Rho went back to her workstation and resumed filling glasses. “I’ll come find you in five millicycles,” he added. “Another border patrol?”

Rho grinned hugely. “You know I’m ready for that.”

“Just make sure to clear it with Halix and your supervisors.”

“I will.”

He left, and Rho continued her work. She heard the quiet that followed him out of the mess, and deftly deflected questions from her coworkers about what he’d wanted. Her thoughts swirled with the implications of knowing the truth about the Nameless. Tron had been gone from the Grid so long he was practically a legend. And yet he’d come back, with no one the wiser.

And she _knew_ him.

The Nameless did not much associate with anyone, but for some reason he’d taken her on, shown her how to defend herself and taught her the folly of her recklessness. She’d been dying to know about him as much as anyone, but even she knew when to shut up. She could live without small talk, and babble about herself for micros on end. And he put up with her. And _trusted_ her.

Rho was lucky. She knew that now. She never pressed the Nameless for details, and in return, he dropped hints, and now he trusted her with his biggest secret. She knew he would never have told her, if she hadn’t entered the Flynn’s building with him and heard what she’d heard. But it awed her, a little, that he did not deny her the truth about himself.

She’d keep his secret. After all he’d done for her, it was really the least she could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the tardiness. Thanks for your understanding.


	7. The Interim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if this chapter is a bit boring? It's sort of an in-between chapter, but it's needed to get from A to B.

**PART ONE: INCUBATION**

**CHAPTER SEVEN: THE INTERIM**

Things returned to normal at the Outpost, or as close to normal as they could get these cycles. The virus continued ravaging the Outlands, though it did not yet approach the Outpost’s borders. Rho went on occasional border patrols with the Nameless, wherein they discussed very little but Rho’s complaints about her work both as a message runner and in the mess rotation. The Nameless lent a mostly sympathetic ear, and Rho did not mention anything they’d spoken of in the pump station.

The flow of refugees to the Outpost had slowed to a trickle. The construction crews no longer had to work for millicycles on end to keep pace with new arrivals; the atmosphere around the Outpost in general became more relaxed. A couple of MP3s were granted permission to open a club in one of the central sublevels. Rho went a time or two, looking for a good time but met mostly with questions about the Users and the Nameless. She already had a reputation as the Nameless’ favorite; the fact that she’d escorted the Users to the Outpost had only increased it. Everyone wanted to know what the Users knew. Were they close to finding a way to fight the virus? When would they be returning? Did she know?

Rho knew some of what they wanted, but she wasn’t sure it was her place to tell. She said “I don’t know” so many times she lost count, and eventually she stopped going out to the club. It meant a lot of time spent alone in her apartment, lost in her own thoughts. Her friends from back in the war didn’t want much to do with her. They said she’d become cocky since she’d gone to get the Users, like she knew better than everyone else. It wasn’t true, or at least, she didn’t think it was. Was it because she went on so many patrols with the Nameless? Or because she didn’t give up any information?

She vented to the Nameless, who remained noncommittal. She thought about it probably too much. She’d volunteered to go on that mission because she wanted to get out of the Outpost. Not because she wanted to hang it over the others’ heads. But now she knew things she couldn’t tell, and no matter how many times she said “I don’t know,” it didn’t seem to convince anyone.

She threw herself into her work, though there seemed to be less of it now that the influx of refugees had slowed. She ran messages for Axel and Edis, either to the Council members or else the architects and foremen and medtechs. The Council member Atana seemed particularly keen on relaying messages to Edis and Axel, private messages encoded on disks that Rho could not read. One time, maybe a decicycle after the Users had departed, Atana paused before handing over her message. She eyed Rho up and down, which made Rho a little nervous. “Are you a believer, Rho?” she asked.

Rho blinked, thrown by the question. “I—not really? I believe the Users can help us, but I don’t follow—I mean, I’ve never even seen an I/O tower—”

Atana’s eyes narrowed. “I see. You’re friends with the Nameless, are you not?”

“Yes, Councilwoman.”

“How much did he tell you of our meeting with the Users?”

_She is a member of the Council,_ Rho thought. _I can’t lie to her._ “A little,” she admitted. “He told me when the Users are coming back, and that they’re hoping they can stop the virus.”

“I see,” Atana said again. She handed over her message disk. “Here you are, program. Get that to Edis posthaste. That will be all.”

Rho left Atana’s apartment very puzzled, and she nearly walked into two programs before she finally cleared her mind and got back to the work at hand.

Rho forgot the encounter with Atana, though the Councilwoman’s messages to the Outpost leaders did not decrease in frequency. She continued her work, always glad for the brief respites that came in the form of border runs with the Nameless.

**ooo**

She was down at the northern gate to clear one such run with Captain Halix when it began.

“The Nameless is due for another border run in two millicycles,” Halix said to Rho over the top of his info tablet. “He told me you wanted to come along. You’ve cleared it with Kedi, then?”

“Yessir,” Rho replied, rocking back on her feet a little bit. Kedi supervised the message runners for the whole Outpost. “You know I always do, sir.” She grinned in what she hoped was a winning manner.

“Yes,” Halix said. “That’s that, then, I suppose—”

“Captain!” The comm on the workstation behind Halix crackled to life. “We need a medtech down to the quarantine!”

Halix turned and flipped on his end of the comm. “What’s come in? More stragglers from Argon?”

“No, sir!” replied the program on the other end. “Messengers from Xenon!”

Halix frowned, and so did Rho. Xenon City was the most remote of the Grid cities. Messages rarely came out from that way, but what little word they’d had over the last couple of cycles had said that Xenon had been least affected by the virus. None of the programs at the Outpost had come from Xenon, unless they’d been living in one of the closer cities prior to the Departure and the war. But now they’d sent messengers?

“I’ll send word for the medtech,” he replied on the comm. “Be down to quarantine in a micro.” He flipped off the comm and turned to find Rho still standing at the station. “You’re dismissed, program,” he said.

“With all respect, sir,” Rho said, “can I come with you to quarantine? I’m Axel and Edis’ preferred message runner, and if this is big news, they need to know immediately.”

Halix eyed her for a moment, his dark face impassive. Finally, he said, “All right. Come along, then.”

Halix stopped a sentry to send word for the medtech, then continued on. Rho trotted along after him through the hangar bay and down to the gate itself, and the cordoned off area that served as a quarantine. The sentries saluted Halix as he approached, but looked at Rho in confusion. Halix ignored this and walked up to the glass partition, where five programs waited.

They were one and all exhausted. Four of them sat in various spots around the quarantine chamber, while the last stood by the partition. Halix flipped on the comm. “Greetings, programs,” he said. “My men say you’re from Xenon. What word do you bring?”

The program breathed heavily for a moment. He seemed to Rho on the verge of deresolution; how long had it been since he’d had a shot of energy? “We bring word,” he started, then paused. He shook his head, still panting, then continued. “Xenon has fallen to the virus. We were sent ahead… of the evacuation. We left beacons.”

“Evacuation,” Halix repeated. “How many programs? How soon?”

The program shook his head again. “Three, maybe four centicycles. We thought—containment. Containment would work. But it only—only four safe sectors in the whole city. The whole city. The whole—” He stopped, shaking himself again. “Estimate. A thousand. Maybe fewer survive the journey. Survive the journey. Survive. Survive. Survive. Surv—”

He disintegrated, derezzed into a pile of unusable code.

Rho stared, shaking. She’d seen plenty of programs derezzed in her time; she’d fought in two wars, after all. But never had she seen one derezz from simple starvation. The idea itself was absurd to her. She’d never heard of anyone wanting for energy on the Grid; it had always been more or less freely supplied for anyone who needed it. More potent varieties might cost you something in time or work, but basic energy was what everyone needed to function. It would have been ridiculous to bar someone from having it.

But this program had come from so long and twisted a way that he had run out of energy, and found no springs in the Outlands. All to tell them of what was coming, to prepare a place for his fellow programs.

A thousand, he’d said. She blinked, recovering herself. A thousand programs coming here, in less than half a decicycle. She turned to Halix. “I have to go to Edis and Axel immediately,” she said. “They need to know about this right now.”

“Go,” Halix said, nodding. “And someone find energy rations for these other programs!” he shouted as she dashed away. The sentries sprang into action around her, but she wove deftly through them. Word of this might trickle out somehow, and she needed to make sure Edis and Axel were among the first to know.

It was fortunate the Council offices were centralized, Rho thought; she wasn’t sure she would have been able to run across the whole Outpost without stopping. The sentry at the door to Edis’ office eyed her as she jogged to a halt in front of him. “Identify,” he barked.

“Rho,” she said. “Message runner with urgent news for General Edis and Commander Axel. From Xenon City.”

“Send her in,” came Edis’ muffled voice from behind the door.

“Entry granted,” the sentry said, standing aside as the door swept open.

Edis sat at his desk, an info tablet in his hand. “Rho. You’re not on duty this millicycle, are you? Where’s Dari?”

“Doing her work, I assume,” Rho replied. “I was in the northern hangar bay when some programs arrived, from Xenon City.”

His eyebrows raised at that. “I thought I’d misheard you. What news, then?”

“Xenon has fallen,” Rho reported. “They sent messengers ahead of their evac party. We have three or four centicycles before they arrive.”

“How many? Xenon was large, almost as large as Tron City. How many survived?”

Rho closed her eyes and said, “One thousand.”

“Oh my U—one thousand?” Edis repeated.

Rho opened her eyes and pretended she had not heard his epithet. “One thousand is what the program said, sir. He was—starving, he derezzed right after he told us, but we have to believe that number is accurate, at least for now. Halix was getting rations to the other messengers, so it’s possible one of them has a better estimate.”

“Perhaps,” Edis said. “And a great many may be lost to the virus, either on their journey, or here at the gates. Still, we must be prepared.” He sighed. “We should have seen this coming. Xenon was the last of them… and we are not prepared to house so many so soon. Find Axel and tell him to come here immediately. He should be in his quarters or else in Mess 1. Return with or without him, I do not care. I will have orders for you to deliver to the foremen and architects. I understand you’re not on duty, but—”

Rho nodded. “I understand, sir. I’m free for the next two millicycles.”

Edis nodded back at her, then waved a hand. “Go, then.”

Rho went.

**ooo**

 

The four centicycles that followed were the most chaotic in Rho’s memory, and she’d been around for the brokering of the peace, and the Outpost’s early days. Word got out about the coming programs; probably a sentry from the northern gate had blabbed about it, and news like that always traveled faster than picocycles, it seemed like. A public Council meeting was held to put all rumors to rest, but it did little to ease anyone’s worry. One thousand programs were coming to the Outpost, and everyone from Axel and Edis on down knew there wasn’t going to be room for them.

Programs were recruited in to help with construction, though it was barely in their functions. Some programs worked for millicycles on end, until they collapsed. When three programs derezzed from exhaustion and lack of energy, the mess halls were coordinated to bring energy to the construction areas so it would not happen again. Rho was spared that duty, but only because she was needed at almost all times to run messages between the Council and the construction zones.

The Xenon exodus was spotted by a Recognizer patrol half a millicycle before they would have arrived at the Outpost. The Recognizer stopped them in their tracks, telling them to wait where they were. Outpost officials would meet them there, bringing with them energy rations and medtechs to test for the virus. The mass of programs was visible from the highest floors of the Outpost, and many programs were seen staring out the windows at the refugees who would soon be joining them.

The constructors had built over two hundred apartments for the Xenon refugees, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Nine hundred and eighty-two programs had survived the journey across the Outlands. Two hundred and ten had become infected by the virus, and either ran into the Outlands or allowed themselves to be derezzed for the safety of the others. Two hundred and fifty-six were given apartments in the Outpost, many of them community or military leaders. That left just over five hundred programs with nowhere to stay. Some had friends among those given apartments, and opted to stay with them, but the rest were bereft.

Axel and Edis then announced the new room-sharing policy. Programs with apartments of their own would be chosen by lot to share their space with a Xenon refugee for half a decicycle. The refugee would then be moved to another apartment to give the host program a respite. It was temporary measure, their leaders insisted; every centicycle some refugees would be given new apartments in the Outpost’s rapidly growing East Wing. But the refugees had to be given space to stay; they could not risk further infection by keeping them in the Outlands until all were given accommodations.

Rho found herself in the first round of programs chosen to room share. The Xenon program, Merrill, was a wispy thing, with long white hair she often hid behind. She did not speak to Rho, though Rho tried many times to get her to say _something_. “What’s your function?” she asked when Merrill first arrived. The program said nothing, merely sat on the apartment’s only chair and stared out the window at the Outlands.

“Well,” Rho said, nervously, “I’m a message runner. I’m out most millicycles, so, you know. Make yourself comfortable. I’m sure they’ll find work for you soon enough. And hey, this is only supposed to be temporary, so…” Her smile faded as it became clear Merrill was ignoring her. “Okay. See you later.” She turned to go, but paused at the door to give the program one last look. She wondered what had happened to her in the Outlands. What had happened to all of them.

Merrill would speak in her own time, she supposed. And this was only supposed to be temporary.

She left the apartment in search of the Nameless. Maybe he would let her along on his next border patrol, and give them a chance to talk.

**ooo**

The protests began before the first half decicycle was even over. Longtime Outpost residents didn’t appreciate their private spaces (many of them quite small to begin with) being impinged upon by newcomers. The Xenon refugees did not agree with the policy that would have them moving from place to place every half a decicycle. Programs from both sides of the issue, many of them with little enough to do, gathered outside the Council’s offices, demanding they one and all be heard.

It took less than a centicycle before a public Council meeting was called, so one and all could air their grievances.

Rho found the Nameless in the press to get into the Council chambers. “Hey,” she said to him.

He nodded at her, and didn’t protest when she grabbed onto his wrist to use his greater bulk to push through the crowd.

“What do you think is gonna happen?” she asked him as they entered and filed into a pair of available seats.

“Not what these programs want,” he replied.

Rho let go of him as they settled into their seats. She braced her hands on her knees and peered over the programs in front of them. The Council floor was teeming with programs, those protesters chosen by lot to bring their complaints before the Council. The bench was empty; the Council had not filed in yet.

“They’re not going to change the room sharing policy,” the Nameless said. “There’s still no room for all the programs from Xenon, no matter how much they complain.”

“Then what’s the point?” Rho asked.

“The Council will give assurances,” the Nameless said. “Tell us that everything is only temporary, and things will be back to normal before long.”

“That’s what they said when this all started,” Rho pointed out, glancing at him incredulously. “Those protesters aren’t going to be happy with that.”

“I’m sure the Council has some plan to get things over sooner rather than later.” The Nameless stared impassively down at the Council floor. “Probably the construction programs will be worked triple time. But riots need to be avoided, or else this place won’t function.”

Rho nodded grimly, and looked back down at the Council bench. She remembered the riots back when Clu had first come into power, and the ones after the Departure. Programs had been torn apart in those crowds, and entire blocks had been desiccated. And many more programs had been derezzed by sentries in the name of Clu’s peace and power. The Outpost was smaller than Tron City, more contained. A riot would almost certainly destroy a lot of what they’d worked to build. And while they were all on the same side now, Rho didn’t doubt the sentries would be deployed again in the face of a riot.

And then there would be sides again, and once that happened… the Outpost almost certainly would not survive.

Rho opened her mouth to share her thoughts with the Nameless, but a hush had suddenly fallen over the crowd. She blinked, and saw the seven Council members filing to their seats at the bench. The meeting had begun.

It went almost exactly as the Nameless had predicted. The protesters complained, and the Council—actually, mostly Axel and Edis—deflected and repeated the promises they’d given when this had all started.

Then a lithe program with almost violet circuitry pushed herself to the front of the crowd on the floor and addressed the Council. “My name is Zetta,” she said, her voice high and clear. “I come from Xenon. I resent that my fellow programs and I are to be moved about this place like so much unwanted data, but I resent even more that this Council does not represent us all. I resent that these two tyrants”—there were jeers from the crowd around her and in the seats above— “have pressed their plan upon us with such little regard for our happiness. What have the rest of you to say?,” she said, glancing at the Council’s other five members. “Do you support this plan, this tyranny upon us? Do you represent me and my fellow Xenon programs, or are you only looking out for yourself in this den of cowards?”

Cheers and jeers alike followed her speech. Programs on the floor clapped Zetta’s shoulders, and she stared defiantly at the Council, her chin raised and her posture unflinching.

Edis covered his eyes with one hand. Axel grabbed him by the shoulder, and seemed to be saying something to him.

And then Conin, the Council’s only other loyalist, glanced at the leaders. He looked back down at Zetta and the other programs on the floor. “We were none of us consulted,” he spat.

The Council chambers erupted in boos. The programs around Rho and the Nameless surged to their feet, shouting with all the rest, as if this were a Games match and the crowd favorite was on the edge of losing.

“It’s true,” Haibt, one of the Council’s neutrals, said over the din. “Your leaders enacted this plan without our advisement or input. As if they alone know what is best for this Outpost, as if we are merely half-wit half-bits with no opinion!”

More boos, more shouting.

Edis shook off Axel’s grip on his shoulder and rounded on Haibt, snarling, “I didn’t hear you present better ideas!”

“Easy—” Axel began, but Edis ignored him.

“Easy!” Edis spat. “As if it were easy to house a thousand programs on less than a decicycle’s notice! As if it were easy to save them all from the virus’ menace!”

“The Users could have done it,” Atana cried suddenly. “The Users could have solved our problems with ease, and you know it. And yet you have let them abandon us again! Three decicycles on and they have not returned!”

“You know damn well when they’re due back—” Axel said, but Atana cut him off.

“The Users,” she repeated, her voice somehow louder than the other Council members’ together. “Where are the Users, Edis? Axel? This crisis would be over with their help. There would be no need for these lies. Where are the Users? Where. Are. The Users.” She repeated this over and over, her voice loud in the Council chambers, echoing off the walls until the mantra was taken up by the other programs around them.

“WHERE. ARE. THE USERS.”

Atana continued her admonishment of Edis and Axel when she seemed certain her rallying cry would not die down. “Enough of these lies,” she said. “Enough, as Zetta says, of your tyranny. What do you know about the Users? What lies have you told us in their absence?”

Rho stared and listened, not quite believing the things that were going on around her. She and the Nameless were still seated, but the programs around them raised their fists to the air and repeated Atana’s initial question. This couldn’t be happening, Rho thought. There were less than four hundred believers in the whole of the Outpost, and the Council chambers seated seven hundred. They couldn’t all believe the Users would solve everything. She saw former loyalists, still wearing their red circuitry proudly, taking up the call.

“I feel like my code’s bugged,” she half shouted to the Nameless. “What is going on?”

The Nameless’ jaw clenched and unclenched. “Atana’s been busy,” he said.

Finally, Axel was able to get a word in edgewise against Atana’s onslaught of demands. “The Users will return!” he shouted over her. “In three centicycles, they will be back! I swear on it!”

The chanting stopped as the programs cheered and booed in equal measure.

“Why did you not share this information from the start?” Atana demanded. “What profit could be had from keeping it to yourself?”

“Their safety,” growled Edis. “You think the Users are so well loved,” he continued, glaring down the bench at Atana. “I know there are programs here who despise them, who would not stop at attacking them when they arrive. I know I would have, ten cycles ago. News of their arrival would not have been kept quiet. By the time it spread they would be well on their way back here. And yet you put them at risk for some play at power—”

“Blasphemy!” Atana shouted over him. “You admit you would attack those who created you—”

“That’s not what I—”

“—who brought you to this Grid, who raised you to power—”

“ _Clu_ raised me to power—”

“—who gave you your name, your code, your _identity_ and—”

Atana’s voice cut off suddenly, and it appeared it was Axel’s turn to glare at her. “Silence,” he said quietly, and his voice was loud enough to be heard over the noise of the crowd. “Silence,” he repeated, looking out at the mass of programs before him. “This meeting of the Outpost Council is hereby dismissed. I expect you all to be gone and about your business in one hundred mircos. Councilwoman Atana, we must have words.”

Atana gaped at him, but stood mechanically when the other Council members did. They filed out into the Council’s private offices, followed by shouts of “tyrant” and “Users” and many others besides.

The Nameless grabbed Rho by the wrist and began pushing his way out of the crowd, dragging her behind him. Rho protested—his grip was strong—but he didn’t appear to hear her.

They emerged from the doors to the Council chambers and found themselves in front of a crowd. Those who hadn’t been able to make it in were waiting for news of what had happened. The Nameless dropped Rho’s wrist and glanced them all over. “Meeting’s over,” he said. “Room sharing still stands, and the Users will return in three centicycles. Everyone’s to be about their business in one hundred micros. Understood?”

The Nameless commanded a certain kind of respect at the Outpost. It was the kind of respect that made programs listen to him when he spoke, and believe what he said besides. The programs around them stared for a few moments, then began slowly dispersing. The Nameless joined them, and Rho trailed behind him.

“What just happened?” she asked him as he turned down an abandoned corridor.

“Atana made a power play,” he replied. “And she had help.”

“Atana—? Help?”

“Someone made her voice amp louder than the others’,” the Nameless said. “She didn’t remember that Axel’s original function includes setup like that, which was how he cut her off.”

“But why would Atana make a power play?” Rho could barely comprehend it. “I mean, all right, maybe she thinks she could do things better than Axel and Edis, but… she’s only on the Council to appease the believers, and give the neutral parties a bit more pull than either side of the old war. Why would she—”

“I don’t know,” the Nameless said tersely. “I don’t like it.”

“I don’t either.”

“Three centicycles.” He stopped, and Rho nearly ran into him. “The Outpost could tear itself apart in that time. And then what will the Users come back to?”

Rho swallowed, nodding. “Do you think they’ll remove Atana from the Council?”

“No,” the Nameless replied at once. “Not unless they really want a riot. She’ll still be on the Council.”

“And not get in trouble for what she did? She turned that whole room against Axel and Edis, I don’t even know how—”

“She’s been busy,” the Nameless said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s spent the last few centicycles having her followers talk up the Users around other programs.”

“What about all the messages she’s been sending Edis and Axel?” Rho asked. “She has one of those for me almost every time I’m on duty.”

“I don’t know about that.” The Nameless shrugged. “It could be anything.” He sighed. “We’ve got three centicycles before the Users return. We have to survive that long.”

“Right.”

“I need some time alone,” the Nameless said. “Need to think.”

“Okay.” Rho nodded. “I need to cycle down for half a millicycle or something, after all that mess. I’ll see you later.”

The Nameless nodded at her in acknowledgment, and Rho went on her way, her head full of what had just transpired and the rest of her unable to process it.


	8. The Return

**PART ONE: INCUBATION**

**CHAPTER EIGHT: THE RETURN**

The next three centicycles passed in a haze of tension. Protesters spent their time outside the Council offices. Graffiti appeared on walls throughout the Outpost, with slogans ranging from Atana’s rallying “Where are the Users” to more original ones, like “End the Tyranny” and “Remove Edis.” Rho did her work around it all, ignoring the jeers she got from the protesting programs when she went to Axel or Edis’ offices to deliver and receive messages. Her old friends, who had already been avoiding her, called her a traitor and a tyrant, because she worked with the Outpost leaders.

She ignored them, or tried to.

One millicycle, not long before the Users were slated to return, she walked into Edis’ office to find the Nameless there, along with Axel and two other Council members, Eckert and Lider. She paused at the door. “Do I need to come back…?” she asked.

“No, come in,” Axel said. “I was just about to send for you.”

“What’s going on?” Rho asked, stepping in and taking a place beside the Nameless.

“The Portal is not open yet, but it will be soon,” Edis said from his desk. “We must act now if the Users are to reach here safely.”

“Now?” Rho said, blinking. “But it can’t be due to open for another few millicycles at least—”

“Yes,” Axel replied. “And when it does, word will spread, and there will no doubt be dozens of volunteers to retrieve the Users from Tron City. We have no way of knowing anyone’s true intentions, whether it’s to harm them or help them or convince them to meddle in our affairs here. Atana has been busy these last centicycles, and so have Conin and Haibt.”

“Is that why they’re not here?”

“Yes,” Edis said tersely.

“The plan,” Axel said, giving his fellow leader a quelling glance, “is to have you and the Nameless set out for the city at the start of the next millicycle. You’ll have no further escorts, or even a medtech. I realize it’s not a long journey. You’ll have to wait in the Outlands until the Portal opens up. When it does, the Outpost will go on lockdown, and you’ll be ready to get the Users back here with time to spare.”

Rho’s confusion must have been evident on her face, because the Nameless said, “The lockdown is to prevent programs from striking out on their own to get the Users. We don’t need programs journeying out into the Outlands and risking infection, especially since almost none of them will have access to the surveys you’re going to use to plot our course.”

She nodded. “All right.” She glanced at Eckert and Lider, who stood to the side of Edis’ desk and had not spoken since she’d arrived. “What are they here for?”

“It was our idea,” Eckert said, frowning at Rho. “We don’t like what Atana did last meeting, and Conin and Haibt have been against taking in more refugees for nearly a cycle now. Neither of them are fond of Users.”

“They may be working together,” Lider said, folding her hands in front of her. “Their beliefs are at odds, but they have enough in common on the Council—”

“—that they might have formed a bloc to prevent this plan,” Axel finished. “Edis and I don’t get votes when it comes to decision making, except in emergencies; only the advisory positions do. They can bluster all they like when the job is done. If it brings us closer to a cure, then I’m all for it.”

Edis picked an info disk up from the files on his desk and held it out to Rho. “The latest surveys,” he said as she stepped forward to take it. “I had the last patrol do a flyover of the city as well. Plot your course well, and keep the Users safe.” He paused, then smiled grimly. “How things have changed.”

Rho blinked at him, half certain of what he meant but still unsure. “Sir?”

“You know who I was,” Edis replied. “You all do. I hunted Flynn down with the best of Clu’s forces, denounced the Users as we threw off the yoke of their oppression. And here I am… here we all are, who had no cause to believe in them or their power, hoping now that we can keep them safe. It’s strange what our circumstances have brought us to. Rebels and loyalists and neutrals, who had no cause to fight for the Users, all hoping that they can deliver us.”

Rho couldn’t help it. She glanced sidelong at the Nameless—at _Tron_ , whose whole function was to keep the system safe and fight for the Users. But as ever, his face was impassive, unreadable. She looked back at Edis and the other Council members, nodding. “We’ll do our best to keep them safe,” she said, turning the disk over in her hands.

“We should go,” the Nameless said. “Sirs, Councilman, Councilwoman.” He turned to go, and Rho hurried to follow him.

The protesters outside the office jeered at them when they emerged, but the Nameless, as ever, ignored them. Rho smiled at them unconvincingly, and took a few running strides til she was alongside the Nameless. “Which hangar?” she asked.

“South,” he replied quietly. “It’s a misdirect.”

“Okay.”

“Plot our course,” the Nameless said. “Meet me there in two hundred micros.”

“Okay.”

He turned abruptly down a corridor, and Rho kept walking forward, the disk held tightly in her hand. Part of her exulted—she had a mission, a dangerous, secret one, something she’d not had a taste of in three cycles. But she tamped that part down, all too aware of what was at stake. No one could find out or know what they were up to. The Outpost had held together this long, but it was fracturing, if the half the Council was meeting without the others. Had Atana been right? Could the Users solve the housing crisis, and put things back to normal? Or was it just enough to hope for a cure for the virus? Would that unite them at last, or would it give them an excuse to start fighting each other once more?

Would there ever truly be peace on the Grid, or was that just another dim fantasy?

**ooo**

Rho plotted the course to the city and through it in the privacy of her apartment. Merrill had departed two centicycles before, and Rho was glad of it. It wasn’t that she’d disliked the program; they’d gotten along fine, even if Merrill had never spoken a word to her. But Rho was glad she didn’t have to explain what she was doing to anyone. She did her work, and when it was time, she set out for the southern gate to meet the Nameless.

The story given to Barden, the southern gate captain, was that they were on an on-the-ground survey, to feel things out for a satellite colony of the Outpost. Barden gave the Nameless a piercing stare at this, but let them check out lightcycles and be on their way.

The Nameless rode point to Rho, who was once again leading the way. She’d set their course to head south for a little while before swinging east towards Tron City. The south was relatively untouched by the virus, allowing Rho to weave her way between rock formations and into small canyons. “Do you think the Users will be able to fix everything?” she asked the Nameless after a while.

“Define ‘everything,’” the Nameless replied.

“I don’t know,” Rho said with a sigh. “The housing crisis, the conflict on the Council, the virus… everything. I know they’re not as all-powerful as Atana wants us to believe, but… they can do _something_ , right?”

“They can do something,” the Nameless agreed. “It won’t be what we expect. But it’ll be something.”

“That’s infuriatingly vague of you,” Rho remarked, glancing over at him with a grin. “Care to clarify?”

“I don’t know,” the Nameless said. “Users aren’t easy to predict. I hope they’ll have solutions, but I don’t expect them.”

“I see. …I think.” She shifted gears on her lightcycle and shot ahead of him a little. “Shifting east now,” she said, taking her lightcycle into a gentle curve. He followed suit, and caught up to her when she shifted again and slowed.

They rode in silence for a while, their sights set on the glowing red skyline of Tron City. It looked worse than it had three decicycles ago, and Rho knew from the maps Edis had given her that more of it had fallen to the virus and the corrupted. Most of their path to the city center would take them through infected territory. She could only hope the corrupted wouldn’t be as active as they had been last time.

“What are we going to do when the city falls?” she asked quietly. “Not the—I mean, what are the Users going to do? They can’t keep coming in through Tron City, can they?”

“No,” the Nameless said. “They spoke to me last time about changing the Portal output, but I wonder if they’ve had time to do it between studying the virus. It’s only been around six millicycles for them.”

“I know.” Rho adjusted her grip on her lightcycle’s handles for something to do. “We can’t keep doing this, though. It’s not safe.”

“I know.”

Silence resumed. Rho concentrated on the hum of their lightcycles rather than the eerie silence of the Outlands. She didn’t want to think about what their ride through the city would be like. There wouldn’t be any more corrupted than last time, but going through almost nothing but their territory would be a harrowing experience.

After a while, the Nameless suddenly spoke. “Look above the city,” he said.

Rho looked: the Portal was open, its white light clear and uncorrupted above the deteriorating city. “Well.” She piled on a bit of speed; the Nameless did as well. “Guess we don’t have to wait in the Outlands. This is a bit sooner than we thought, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” the Nameless said. “But at least we know they’ll be waiting for us.”

They spoke little on the rest of the drive to the city, and even less when they entered the northern gate and started down the corrupted streets. The corrupted screeched and hummed at them, but made little move to follow them. Rho reminded herself that it had been like this last time, too, and look what had happened. But there were fewer of them this time; maybe they wouldn’t pose such a great interest to the corrupted.

The Flynn’s building was deteriorating again, the Users’ work from three decicycles ago already falling apart. Rho and the Nameless brought their lightcycles to a halt at the curb in front of the doors, and together went inside.

Only two Users waited inside: Sam Flynn and Ed Dillinger. They both stared at Rho and the Nameless in shock. “We—how did you get here so fast?” Sam asked.

“The Council sent us ahead,” the Nameless replied. “A lot’s happened while you’ve been gone.” He pulled two lightcycle batons off the holster on his thigh and held them out to the Users.

“How much is a lot?” Ed asked cautiously. He eyed the lightcycle baton, but did not take it. “I can’t ride.”

“You can double up with me,” Sam said, taking a baton. “No big deal. What’s happened?”

“We’ll explain on the way,” the Nameless said, holstering the leftover baton. He turned and headed back out the doors, leaving Rho alone with them.

“He’s right,” she said, motioning for them to follow as she headed for the doors. “We don’t have a lot of time if you’re leaving before the Portal closes. The Council’s going to want to meet with you when we get back and…” She shook her head as she pushed open the doors. “A lot’s happened.”

She climbed onto her lightcycle as Sam dashed down the street to rez his up. He swung back around and stopped in front of Ed, who carefully climbed on behind him. A quick glance told her everyone was ready, and without any preamble, Rho sped off down the street.

They didn’t start talking until they were clear of the city. There were no attacks from the corrupted. They wouldn’t know until they reached the Outpost if they’d avoided infection, but Rho thought their chances were good. Once they entered the Outlands, the Nameless and Rho began the story of the last three decicycles.

Sam and Ed said little about the Outpost’s problems. They listened, and asked questions when it was pertinent. Rho did most of the talking, but the Nameless offered his insights now and then. They finished with the story of the last Council meeting, and the fact that they had been sent by a coalition of the Council that did not include the three dissenting votes.

“So what’s going to happen when we get there?” Sam asked. “Another Council meeting? We need to talk to them about what we’re going to do.”

“There will be a Council meeting,” the Nameless said. “Public, probably. Expect Atana or Conin to make a fuss about how they weren’t consulted about our picking you up. Eckert or Lider will probably make sure you can speak and share your piece.”

“Not Edis and Axel? That’s their names, right, the leaders?” Ed said.

“Yeah, but they’re not exactly popular at the moment,” Rho pointed out. “They’re the ‘tyrants’ because they wanted to save all the Xenon programs they could.” She could barely hide her disgust.

“You don’t agree with the protesters?” asked Sam.

“I mean,” Rho began, but she stopped, trying to get her thoughts in order. “They have a point, but I feel like… they don’t get it. The Outpost was created to be a safe haven for all programs, not just the ones we feel like including. So what if Xenon took too long to come to their senses about the virus? They need our help, and it’s against the function of the Outpost to just turn them away, or leave them in the Outlands until there’s room for them. Axel and Edis are doing the best they can to serve everybody, but because some programs are upset, they think they’re owed the whole system.”

Silence followed her words, and Rho looked down at the console on her lightcycle, embarrassed.

“Wish I could say that sounds unfamiliar,” Sam remarked. Rho almost asked him why, but he continued, “So not everyone’s gonna be happy to see us.”

“I don’t know about that,” the Nameless said. “Atana’s built her campaign around the fact that you can fix everything. I think disappointing her is going to be more dangerous.”

Sam sighed. “She’s gonna have to get used to disappointment, then. Though I think what we’re proposing is going to upset almost everybody.”

“And what are you proposing?” asked the Nameless.

“You’ll find out,” Sam said. “Fewer people—programs that know right now, the better. If you’re gonna be with us on the floor, be ready for trouble.”

“Understood.”

They drove on, the distant lights of the Outpost growing ever nearer.

**ooo**

They were met at the Outpost’s northern gate by Captain Halix, a medtech, and a dozen sentries. “As you might imagine,” Halix said as the medtech entered the quarantine area, “things are a little tense around here.”

“How tense?” the Nameless asked.

“Tense enough that they convened the Council early. No one’s been allowed on the floor, but I hear it’s pretty bad in there, and outside the chambers. Hence these guys,” he said, nodding towards the sentries. “No one was very happy about the lockdown. I had half a dozen groups wanting to get out and head towards the city. I think Atana’s been busy.”

“That’s not news,” Rho scoffed.

“I know,” Halix agreed. He glanced towards the Users, who were being checked over by the medtech. “Are you here to save us all?” he asked, half a grin on his face.

The Users seemed to get the joke. “We’ll see,” Ed said. “No guarantees.”

“Thought not.”

The viral checks continued until they were all declared clean. Rho breathed a sigh of relief when her check was over. Halix opened up the quarantine partition so they could all step through. “You’re going straight to the Council floor, all four of you,” he said. “Lockdown’s extant til the half millicycle, so I’ll be leading the sentries. Let’s go.”

Halix led the group, and the four of them, Users and programs, were bunched together in a tight knot with the sentries surrounding them.

The Outpost corridors were silent and almost unoccupied, but as they drew closer to the Council chambers, there were more and more programs, and they all seemed to know who was at the center of the sentries. There were cries of “User!” and attempts to push through the ring of sentries and get at them, but the desperate programs were one and all repelled.

It was worst of all outside the doors to the Council floor. There were dozens, maybe a hundred protesters, being held back by tight lines of sentries. Their voices grew louder when they saw them approaching, and they began making concentrated pushes through the sentries, trying to get at Sam and Ed. One program ducked under the sentries and rushed at the group, only to be clocked in the belly by a sentry’s staff. The program collapsed to the ground, and Sam actually stopped, saying, “Hey, man, take it easy—”

“Keep going,” the Nameless said, pushing him forward. “They’re lucky they weren’t derezzed.”

“But—”

“Keep. Moving.”

They emerged onto the Council floor to the sound of cheers and jeers. Some programs were chanting “Users” over and over again, probably at Atana’s prompting. Rho glanced around at the audience around them and the Council seated opposite them. Only Atana seemed glad to be there; the other six faces were a variation on a theme of displeased. Edis was calling for order but barely maintaining it.

“Let the Users speak!” Atana cried, and the crowd quieted. A babble of conversation still filled the room, but the Council could be heard now. Atana smirked triumphantly down the table at Edis, who glared at her for a moment before looking down at the Users.

“The Council has but one question for you, Users,” he said. “Have you discovered a cure for this virus?”

“We think we have,” the User Ed said clearly. Cheers came from the audience, but quieted down quickly when Ed spoke again. “But we need to be sure of your support before we can move forward.”

“And why is that?” Edis asked.

“We believe the virus is biodigital,” Sam said. “Like the Isos.”

Silence, true silence, fell over the crowd. Rho gaped, but quickly shut her mouth. The Isos? But the Grid hadn’t seen an Iso since the days of the first war and the Purge, when Clu had exterminated them.

“And what,” asked Edis tersely, “do the Isos have to do with anything? They are long gone. Why do you need our support?”

“We hypothesize that the Isos may be the key to developing a vaccine and an antiserum,” Ed replied. “We would be able to protect uninfected programs and eventually heal the Grid of its infection.”

Conversations broke out among the audience, but died down again when Edis spoke. “You have not answered my question,” he snapped. “Why do you need our support? The Isos are gone, and have been for nearly a thousand cycles. They can neither help nor hinder us any longer.”

Sam and Ed looked at each other. Rho felt almost detached from herself. She didn’t know what was about to happen, but every bit of her code was telling her it would be important, vital to everything that would help them survive.

“The Isos are not gone,” Sam said loudly. Gasps filled the chambers, and even the Council looked surprised, Edis most of all. “Our friend Quorra, who escaped to the Users’ world with me, is the last of the Isos. She is the key to stopping this virus, and we cannot bring her here and begin our work until we have an absolute guarantee of her safety.”

Deafening silence followed his words for maybe a nanocycle or two.

Then chaos erupted.

**END PART ONE**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks the end of Part One of this story. I will be taking a break in order to complete edits on Part Two, as well as finish the fic proper. At the current time, in order to give myself the space needed to complete these edits and the fic itself, Part Two will begin in either December 2017 or January 2018. I apologize for the length of the wait, but the way I see it, waiting a few months is better than waiting a few years. I hope you understand, and thank you, as ever, for reading.


	9. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: strong language, discussion of genocide.
> 
> Back just in the nick of time. I'm planning to update with Part Two around once a month. I'm still (sigh) working on finishing the fic, but Part Two is long enough that I've got plenty of lead time. Thanks as ever for your understanding.
> 
> for those wondering, "prodromal" refers to the stage of infection just before the onset of symptoms and illness.

**PART TWO: PRODROMAL**

**CHAPTER NINE: THE AFTERMATH**

The shouts, the screams, the noise in the Council chambers was deafening. Rho stared up at her fellow programs, aghast at their reactions to the User Sam’s words. She could barely react to them herself.

An Iso still lived. An Iso could save them all.

And how many here saw the Isos as a stain on this system? How many had joined in the Purge, proudly turning in former friends for a shot at currying Clu’s favor? And now—

There was a whir in the air, then a crash so close to Rho that she flinched and screamed. She turned and saw a disc clattering to the floor. Someone had tried to—

More whirs, more crashes as the sentries knocked the discs away. “Get them to the bench!” Halix was shouting. “The bench!”

Suddenly a hand clamped onto the back of Rho’s neck and rushed her forward. She glanced back; it was one of the sentries. The others were staving off projectiles from the crowd above—discs, batons, glasses from the messes, even a beam katana. The Nameless had hold of both the Users, pushing them towards the barricaded stairs that led up to the Council bench. The Council members were already retreating into the office behind the bench; Rho could only assume that was there they were headed. Only Edis remained at the bench, calling for order but finding none.

The Nameless shoved Sam and Ed into the barricade, then slashed it open with his disc. He pushed the Users through the opening and up the narrow stairs that led to the bench. The sentry pushing Rho ahead hustled her in after them, and she hurried up the steps, all too aware of the open target they made on these stairs. Anyone could throw a disc and derezz her or Tron— _The Nameless_ , she reminded herself sternly. She didn’t know what a thrown disc might do to a User, but it couldn’t be good.

They made it, but barely. Rho had just cleared the Council bench when a disc screamed in from above and lodged itself in the desk. Rho stared at it for a nano, then shook herself and hurried after the Users and the Nameless into the Council’s office. Edis, from the center of the bench, still called for order. She glanced back at him, but the door hissed shut behind her, cutting off his voice and the din of the programs’ fury.

“What the hell was that?!” Ed exclaimed. “What the fuck—” He was shouting at Sam, of all the programs in the room. Rho stared, too much in shock to care how it might look.

“I didn’t think it’d be like this!” Sam yelled back.

“What’d you think it’d be like?” Ed demanded. “You told me they’d killed her people. You didn’t say they’d try and kill us over her!”

“How was I supposed to know—”

“Calm down,” the Nameless said. “We need to—”

“Shut up, Alan!” Ed snapped. The Nameless flinched, but Ed hardly seemed to notice. “These last three days have been the longest of my _life_ , working on your father’s pet project. You said this was going to be simple, but it’s been nothing but chaos on both sides of the screen. You’re practically CEO, you can jerk off with this place on your own time, but I have a _job_. And you are lucky I decided to give you six hours of my time tonight—which Quorra says is going to be two _weeks_ in here? And they already hate us!” He gestured towards the door, but since Rho was standing in front of it, his hand waved in front of her.

He stared at her a moment, then shook his head. “Sorry. Not you. Them.”

“I didn’t know, all right?” Sam said quietly. “I didn’t know about the virus, and I didn’t think the Isos would still be a sore point with these guys.” He looked at Axel and the rest of the Council, who had been watching Ed’s diatribe uncomfortably. “Why is that, exactly? Quorra said the Purge was nearly a thousand cycles ago for you guys.”

“Because the Isos tore this system apart,” spat Conin. “They came, and suddenly we were second best to the Creator. You’ve just confirmed what we always knew—they were a plague, a virus that would have wiped us from this system. Clu did what needed to be done in getting rid of them.”

Rho could only guess what Sam and Ed’s expression were, but going by their silence, she suspected they were stunned.

“They had no purpose here,” Atana said loftily. “Programs without Users, without functions? What good could they have done us? They cost us our Creator, and in so doing cost us the Grid.”

More silence from the Users. Then, Sam said slowly, “So… are all of you complete Nazis or is it just you two?”

Even Atana looked confused at this.

Ed sighed, then said, “They don’t know what Nazis are.”

“Yeah, I’m realizing that.”

“To rephrase: are all of you totally okay with the extermination of fellow sentient beings, or is it just you two?” Ed folded his arms, while Sam put his hands on his hips. Rho blinked, staring at the Council, unsure of what exactly was going to happen next.

Axel stepped forward. “My colleagues do not speak for me. I can’t say I ever liked the Isos, but the Purge was excessive and uncalled for.”

“Seconded,” Lider said from against the wall.

“Thirded,” Eckert added.

Atana, Conin, and Haibt said nothing. Atana even raised her chin a little in defiance.

Sam and Ed exchanged a glance. “Well—” Sam began, but then the door behind Rho hissed open.

Rho jumped and turned, almost lunging out with one fist—but the Nameless caught her arm, and Edis patted her on the shoulder. “It’s only me, Rho,” he said. He moved past her and the Users to sit at one of the large office’s desks. “The sentries are cleaning up the rabble at the moment. Halix had to call in reinforcements. I apologize for the outburst,” he added to the Users. “Rest assured the discs of those who attacked you have been collected, and the programs in question will be duly punished.”

“Punished how?” Sam asked. 

“Work details, with either excavation or construction,” Edis replied. “We need more than a little help in those arenas as of late. I’m sure the Nameless and Rho have filled you in on our recent troubles.”

“Wait,” Sam said. “Are you just gonna pretend that mess out there didn’t happen? We told you our plan, and everyone went berserk.”

“Yes,” Edis said as he took a seat at one of the desks in the room. “We must hope they will come around.”

“Come around?” Atana scoffed. “I think the Outpost’s programs have made their opinion on this bit-brained plan clear. We have far more pressing problems to deal with, Edis, and you know it.”

“More pressing than the health and stability of the entire system?” Eckert asked sourly. “I agree getting rooms for the Xenon programs is a priority, but the virus still spreads, even in the Outlands.”

“Spreads slowly,” Haibt pointed out. “We wouldn’t even have a housing crisis if we’d left those refugees in the Outlands. A camp would have been safe enough for the few decicycles it would take to build accommodations for them all. And now the Users throw us into further crisis by saying an Iso is the answer to all our problems!”

“Not all our problems, Haibt,” Lider said. “Just the biggest one. The housing crisis is a problem, but it is one we are equipped to deal with. We have no tools to deal with this virus, and we haven’t from the start. And now the Users come, offering us a possible solution, and you three want to reject it out of hand? Because its origin might come from a program you consider a plague or a blasphemy?”

“You’re putting your opinions before the welfare of those you were chosen to represent,” Eckert said, moving to get into Haibt’s face. “I know those programs out there don’t like what they heard, but they’ll get over it.”

“What does this ‘vaccine’ involve?” Conin asked suddenly, addressing the Users. “An alteration of code? Or something else?”

“Our theory—” Ed started, but Sam put a hand on his arm, stopping him.

“We’ll tell you when you agree to keep Quorra safe,” Sam said. “We’re not here to listen to your infighting or your justifications for genocide. We’re not going to solve all your problems, just this one. If we can’t bring Quorra here to work on the vaccine and keep her safe—we’re leaving. The Portal’s still open; we’ve got plenty of time to make it before it closes. So tell us now: will you keep Quorra safe or not?”

“I call for an emergency vote,” Axel said. Atana opened her mouth to protest, but Axel cut her off. “Yes, this is an emergency. The fate of the whole Grid hangs in the balance.” Atana shut her mouth, but glared at Axel. Axel continued, “On the subject of bringing the Iso called Quorra to this Outpost, and allotting sentries and programs for her protection, I vote in favor. Council?”

“I vote against,” Atana said proudly.

“I vote in favor,” Lider said.

“In favor,” Eckert added quickly.

“Against,” Conin said.

“Against,” Haibt agreed.

All eyes in the room fell on Edis. He stared over his steepled hands, as if lost in thought. Then he sighed a little. “I derezzed more Isos than I can remember, during the Purge. I was only a lieutenant, but my work in the Purge saw me elevated to commander. I… I never suspected one of them might have escaped. When you…” He trailed off, then sighed again. “I’m set in my ways. My first thought was that I could finish what Clu started. But he’s gone, isn’t he?” He looked to the Users. Sam nodded once, very slowly.

“This system has changed,” Edis continued. “This virus threatens our very existence, and my first thought is how I can destroy our last hope in defeating it?” He shook his head. “But this system has changed. And I have, too.

“I vote in favor.”

Rho let out a breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding. There was still hope. If Edis, the last of Clu’s generals, could put aside his leader’s directives, then maybe there was a chance after all. She hadn’t liked him for the longest time, but the last few decicycles had changed them both. If he could change, if he could act in the best interests of the Grid and its programs, then he was worth following.

“Bear in mind,” Edis said, looking across the room at the three dissenting programs, “that if we hear of your inciting violence against these Users or the Iso, you will be punished. Am I understood?”

The three murmured their assent.

“To business, then,” Edis said. “What does your plan entail, Users?”

“Our theory,” Ed began again, “is that Quorra has an immune system equipped to fight the virus. Our plan is to infect Quorra and see to it that she survives the infection. Her immune system will then have the antibod—” He paused, taking in the confused expressions around him. “Her immune system will have learned the virus’ code and know how to fight it off when it reappears.”

“We’re hoping we can find and isolate this part of her code and copy it,” Sam continued. “The copies would be used to give the whole Grid and every uninfected program Quorra’s immune system and its memory of how to fight off the virus.”

“You would augment us with Iso code?” Axel asked.

“Heresy,” Atana hissed. “Our Users designed us byte by byte, and you would have us be subsumed by the randomness of Iso code? They have no Users, no rhyme or reason to their existence! Are we to suffer the same fate?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said, shrugging. “But I’ll let you in on a secret: us Users don’t know why we exist, either.”

Atana’s expression grew so outrageously scandalized that Rho almost laughed. By the time she clenched her jaw and repressed the urge, Atana was already making her way out of the office. As the door to the corridor hissed shut behind her, the Nameless said, “You shouldn’t have antagonized her like that.”

“I don’t know, given that she’s in favor of genocide and all, I’m surprisingly okay with it,” Sam replied.

“She might make you regret it, User,” Axel said. 

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it,” Sam said, almost cheerful. “There’s one more thing.”

“And what would that be?” Conin asked. “More surprises for our unwitting citizens?”

“Ed and I need to go into the Outlands,” Sam said. “We’re going to build an I/O tower so we can communicate with Alan, the guy we’ve got on the outside. We’ll make it the new Portal output, too, so when Quorra comes through we won’t have to go to the city to get her. Is that all right?”

“Permission granted,” Edis said with a wave of his hand. “Nameless?”

“Sir?”

“I think—yes, I think we’re going to name you the Users’ personal security detail, if you have no objections?”

The Nameless shifted where he stood, but otherwise didn’t move. “May I ask why, sir?”

“We know we can trust you,” Axel said simply. “You’ve never been beholden to anyone, not even me. You do your job thoroughly and well. I’m confident you’ll be able to keep the Users and the Iso safe for as long as they’re here. The basic sentries assigned to their detail will be loyal to the Council’s wishes, but any additional security will have to be screened by you as well. Is any of this a problem, Nameless?”

“No, sirs,” the Nameless replied. “Thank you.” He turned towards the Users. “If you’ll follow me.”

“Lead the way,” said Sam.

The Nameless exited through the door Atana had taken moments before, Sam and Ed following close behind him. Rho knew the corridor that led to this office was off-limits to ordinary programs. She could only hope the Nameless could keep the Users safe when they entered the public areas. Hopefully the sentries had calmed everyone down enough that they would leave well enough alone.

“General,” Rho said, stepping forward. Edis, who had watched the Users go, looked at her. “Is there anything you need me to do, or am I free to go about my business?”

Edis exchanged a glance with Axel, then looked back at Rho. “I can’t think of anything at this very moment,” he said. “Come to my office in two hundred micros. I think we will have a message for Atana. Hopefully she’ll have calmed enough by then to accept it. Otherwise, you’re free to go.”

“Yes, sir,” Rho said. She nodded at Axel and Edis, glanced uncomfortably at the other Council members, then exited by the same door the others had.

As she walked down the white, silent corridor, she thought about what she had heard and seen this last millicycle. She’d been sent on a secret mission to retrieve the Users, but all the chaos had happened here in the Outpost. Her fellow programs seemed to have roundly rejected the Users’ proposal for their survival. An Iso survived, but Rho wondered if Quorra would survive her return to the Grid. She had every confidence in the Nameless’ ability to keep her and the Users safe, but she wondered. Atana, Conin, and Haibt were utterly opposed to the Users’ plan, and it was clear they’d stacked the audience with their supporters. Could they also stack the sentries’ ranks, fill the security details with their followers? Would the Nameless have no one to turn to but himself, leaving his charges vulnerable to attack?

 _Stop worrying_ , Rho told herself, stopping at the door that connected the corridor to the public areas of the Outpost. She paused, trying to calm herself. The Nameless would have a handle on things. He was _Tron_ , after all.

She just hoped the Users’ and the Iso’s presence would stabilize the Outpost, rather than fracture it further.


	10. The Tower

**PART TWO: PRODROMAL**

**CHAPTER TEN: THE TOWER**

The Nameless knew better than most which parts of the Outpost tended to be deserted. He took Ed and Sam a long and winding way, but eventually they made their way to the western vehicle hangar. Karpin, the captain there, eyed the Users suspiciously as the Nameless explained their purpose. “I’ve heard no word of this,” he said with a sneer. “Last orders from the Council were to keep the gates on lockdown.”

“That was to prevent anyone from going to get the Users,” the Nameless explained. “As you can see, they’re here now.” Karpin only narrowed his eyes, and the Nameless fought down an urge to sigh. “If you don’t believe me, then get General Edis on a comm line and _ask_.”

Karpin’s suspicion morphed into self-satisfied smugness. “I think I will. None of you move.” He stepped away from his console post and picked up his comm, standing some distance away so he couldn’t be overheard.

After a ten micro chat on the comm, Karpin returned looking a great deal less smug. “You’re free to go,” he growled. 

“Thank you,” the Nameless said. He waved at Sam and Ed to follow him, and together they crossed the hangar and exited into the Outlands.

“What was his problem?” Sam asked as they walked.

“He served Clu,” the Nameless remarked, which more or less covered everything.

“Ah.” Sam shook his head. “I kind of figured, but.”

They walked for about sixty micros in silence before the Nameless stopped. They had reached a flat area of land, a little rough underfoot but otherwise a worthy foundation. “This should be a good place,” he said to them. “There’s less viral spread to the west, and the plans for the new apartments extend this way.”

“All right,” Sam said. “Let’s get started.” He clapped his hands together, then strode forward a few paces and knelt to open a panel of code on the ground. Ed joined him there, and work on the I/O tower commenced.

The Nameless watched patiently as the Users worked. They clearly were both novices at this, but Flynn had been, too, in those early days of the Grid. Sam and Ed managed to clear an area around them, smoothing the rock into a glassy floor. The three-dimensional aspects of building, however, eluded them. Walls flickered in and out of existence as they disagreed on the shape of the building. For a brief and beautiful moment, the light of connection between this world and the one beyond shone brightly, but it faded as the connection was lost in another argument.

Finally, the Nameless said, “Stop.”

The two Users looked up at him.

“You—” He stopped himself, not sure if it was his place to say anything. The Grid had never seen an I/O tower, because it had never needed one. Flynn was the system’s only User, and Clu existed so problems could be dealt with while Flynn was home in his own world. The Nameless hadn’t seen the inside of an I/O tower since Flynn had transferred him to the Grid. He wanted—no, he _needed_ them to get it right.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he said.

Sam’s mouth crooked in half a smile, but Ed looked slightly annoyed. “How are we doing it wrong?” he asked. “No offense, but you’re a program—what do you know about writing code?”

“Not much,” the Nameless admitted. “But I saw Flynn work in here more times than I care to count. Writing code on the Grid is… different from what I suspect you’re used to. Flynn told me it was more about guiding his feelings and trusting himself than mechanically writing it down. And…” He bowed his head, unable to look at them. “If you’re going to open this I/O tower, you need to get it right.”

“Right how?” Sam asked.

“”The I/O towers…” He struggled for the right words; how could he explain this to a User? “They were the beacons of a free system. Where programs went when they felt their User’s call. I—you knew you were part of something greater, that everything you knew—” He closed his eyes, raising his head as he remembered DuMont and the words of the guardians. “ ‘All that is visible must grow beyond itself, and extend into the realm of the invisible.’

“They called us fanatics for believing in the Users. Master Control did. But then Flynn came and showed us how right and how wrong we were. He freed the system. We could contact our Users again, follow our functions as they were meant to be. And then Flynn returned, and brought us here.”

One of them said something, but he didn’t hear.

Then Sam said, “Tron?”

He blinked; it all rushed back. Sam and Ed both stared at him. Sam looked a little concerned. “Don’t call me that,” the Nameless snapped. “I don’t deserve that name.”

“Because of what Clu did to you?”

The Nameless turned away, and no one spoke any further. A micro later, Ed spoke quietly to Sam, and their work began anew.

The wind whipped around them, whining a little in his ears. Sam knew what he was, what he’d done. All that violence in the name of Clu. He had nearly killed Sam on the games grid, those cycles ago. Only his underlying directive, the fundamental part of his code that even Clu couldn’t override, had saved Sam’s life. He may have tried to stop Clu over the Sea, but it hadn’t been enough. And four cycles of working to undo the evil he’d wrought as Rinzler were not near enough atonement for a thousand spent as Clu’s enforcer. The programs and Isos he’d derezzed, both on the games grid and off it… even he didn’t know how much death he’d been responsible for.

He didn’t deserve the name Tron. Not now, and maybe not ever again.

**ooo**

The I/O tower gleamed from within and without. It stood tall and proud, though not as large as the towers the Nameless remembered. Those great cathedrals to a world unseen were lost to him now, but he suspected this substitute would do its work admirably. Sam had constructed most of the building, using a combination of written code and the awkward hand-waving Flynn had often employed while exercising his User privileges. The tower had shimmered into existence around Sam and Ed, but it had not felt truly complete until the connection to the world outside caught light, giving it a life of its own in the Nameless’ eyes.

Now Ed crouched before the doors of the tower, and Sam walked over to where the Nameless watched. “Ed’s setting the tower as the Portal’s new output point,” he explained. The Nameless nodded, not looking at Sam or even Ed. He stared above the tower, where the connection’s bright light sent a thin beam into the sky.

“Are you all right?” Sam asked.

“I’m fine,” the Nameless said.

“You haven’t said anything since I mentioned Clu,” Sam pointed out. “Are you sure you’re not—”

“Sam,” the Nameless warned, turning his head to glare at him.

Sam held up his hands. “All right, all right. Fair enough, I did bring him up in the first place.” He sighed. “I just—I don’t understand. Why don’t you want anyone to know who you are?”

“I told Quorra this the last time you were here,” the Nameless responded. “Did she not tell you?”

“It’s only been two days on our side,” Sam reminded him. “And we spent most of the poring over code. It didn’t come up.”

“Do you really think Tron would be welcomed back with open arms, the way things are right now?” the Nameless asked. “And if it got out who I was before the Departure, what then? There’s probably not a program in that Outpost who didn’t lose someone they knew to Rinzler.”

“Fair point,” Sam admitted. He turned his attention back to Ed and the tower. “Did we do a good enough job for you? I tried to keep what you said in mind, but I’m not much of an architect…”

“It’s…small,” the Nameless said, “but the connection is bright and strong. It’ll serve.”

“Glad you like it, then.”

The Nameless only nodded in response. He saw Sam looking at him sidelong, as if trying to will him to talk, but neither of them spoke any further. Sam walked back over to where Ed was working. “How’s it coming?” he asked.

“Nearly got it,” Ed replied. “Your father’s code is a mess, by the way, and so’s most of this place. Stream of consciousness coding is not the way of the future, I don’t think.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it, Eddie boy.”

“ _Don’t_ call me that,” Ed said, annoyed. “And I think I’ll pass on that offer.” He prodded the code beneath his fingers a few more times, then closed out the panel of code, apparently satisfied with his work. “It should be set,” he said, getting to his feet. “Go ahead and give Alan the all-clear.”

The Nameless grew very still. “Are you talking about Alan_1?” he asked quietly.

Sam and Ed both turned to look at him. Ed said, “The Alan who looks just like you, but older? Yeah.”

The Nameless’ hands clenched into fists at his sides. “He is my User.”

“We know,” Sam said.

_Can I please contact him?_ The words were there, at the edge of his lips, but he couldn’t form them. It was too much to hope for, that he could contact his User again for the first time in over a thousand cycles. That he could hear his User’s voice and feel his presence and know that he had purpose and directive again. He felt as though Alan_1 was the only one who could grant him the absolution he sought, to tell him that what he had done as Rinzler had not been his fault. But it was too much to ask, truly, and it was not why they were here.

“The connection is good,” he said instead. Sam and Ed exchanged a look, but said nothing. “Do you know how to encode a message on your disc?”

“No,” said Sam.

“I”ll show you.” Sam pulled out his disc and opened it as the Nameless approached. He walked Sam through accessing the disc’s output and the encoding of a message. “You need to hold your disc into the column of light,” he explained as Sam closed out his disc. “Your message will be carried up to… to the User waiting for it. Any further messages will be relayed to you then. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, nodding. “Let’s do this.” He gripped the Nameless’ shoulder briefly, then walked past Ed with another nod and stepped into the I/O tower.

“Should we go in with him?” Ed asked.

The Nameless shook his head. “It’s a small tower,” he said. “It’s… a private kind of ceremony. Though different since Sam is a User. I… wouldn’t feel comfortable…”

“I understand,” Ed replied. “I think.” He considered the Nameless for a moment, then said, “It’s almost like a religious experience for you guys, isn’t it? Talking to your creator. Only here I guess your creator can talk back.”

The Nameless allowed himself a small smile. “Quorra said something about Users believing they had a User of their own, who had a plan for them.”

Ed shrugged. “Yeah, people believe in a god or gods. I guess it makes some people feel better about the sheer randomness of life. It’s not really my thing, but I’m not one to judge.”

They lapsed into silence. The Nameless stared at the I/O tower, trying not to think of what was going on inside at this very moment, but doing nothing but. He was so close to a connection with his User, with Alan_1, and yet… he couldn’t let himself do it. He had been without a User this long. He could and would survive. But there was a connection now, a tether to the world beyond that the Grid had never seen. And perhaps, in the future, there would be a chance, some small moment he could steal away and try to contact Alan_1.

But not now.

Thirty micros the Nameless spent thinking about the tower, the light, and Alan_1. Over and over he imagined what he would say, what he wanted Alan_1 to say back. Sometimes he gave himself forgiveness; other times, it was judgment. He could not predict what Alan_1 would really say, though; he had never met his User, and his actions were as inscrutable to him as they had been on the Encom system. So he ran through the scenarios and outcomes again, never satisfied with his imaginings.

He almost started when the tower’s doors opened again, and Sam stepped out. “So?” the Nameless said.

“Quorra’s on her way,” he said, walking up to where Ed and the Nameless waited. “Alan says they’ve got to reset the laser, but it shouldn’t take much more than a minute out there. No idea what the conversion rate is, though. It may be a while.”

They waited in silence for a little while, but then Sam spoke again. “Where are we going to be staying while we’re here?” he asked the Nameless. “I know space is tight, but I don’t want anyone losing a place because of the three of us—”

“I’m sure Edis and Axel are working on it,” the Nameless replied. “We’ll report back to them when we return to the Outpost. I take it you’ll need a workspace as well?”

“Probably,” Ed said. “At least when we’ve isolated Quorra’s immune code and begun to copy it.”

“If you don’t mind my asking,” the Nameless said, looking away at the tower again, “what is this immunity you two keep talking about?”

“It’s part of how User bodies work,” Sam said. “We—I mean, this is seriously watered down, like layman’s terms, but—we have a system in our bodies, our blood, that identifies things that aren’t supposed to be there, like viruses. It fights them off, and learns how the virus or whatever works, so it can fight it off the next time it infects us. There are some viruses that change too rapidly for the immune system to really work against them, but those are usually survivable. The really bad stuff is what we have vaccines for. They introduce a weak or dead form of the virus, so the immune system can learn what it is and fight it off it if ever shows up for real.”

“Our theory,” Ed continued, “is that programs don’t have any sort of immune system. Quorra is a program, but she’s also… alive, in a way you guys aren’t. Our DNA, our code, is a double helix. Hers is _triple_ helical. We don’t even really know what she is, except for a totally new form of life.” He glanced at Sam. “And _Sam_ doesn’t want to tell anyone about her, even though a single vial of her blood could probably revolutionize modern medicine.”

“And get her locked up in a government lab for the trouble,” Sam said sourly. “We tell people about her on our terms, not theirs.”

“If she survives this adventure of ours.”

“Yeah. If.”

The wind picked up suddenly, and there was a sharp, clean scent in the air; a growing light blossomed by the I/O tower. They all turned to look as Quorra manifested before them, appearing first as mere shadow, before taking on more solid form. After half a micro, the wind dropped, the light faded, and Quorra stepped back as if she’d received a blow. She looked up and saw them, then smiled.

Sam crossed the space between them in a nano, pulling Quorra into a quick embrace. “Good to see you,” he said. “You ready?”

Quorra backed out of his arms, her expression serious now. “How did they take the news?”

“Not well,” the Nameless said. “It’s a sixty micro walk back to the western gate. We’ll fill you in on the way. There’s more happening here than just your arrival.”

“All right,” Quorra said with a nod. “Lead the way.”

They set off together, and the Nameless explained everything that had happened in their absence, and then the disastrous Council meeting and its aftermath.

“How are we going to stay safe?” Quorra asked at the end of it, when they were in view of the western gate. “I trust you, but you’re only one program. Are there others you trust that you can bring in?”

“The basic sentries will be a help,” the Nameless said. “They’re written to do the Council’s will, and their will is to keep you safe. I can find personal escorts for each of you. Probably.”

“Probably is only a little reassuring at the moment,” Quorra replied. “I can defend myself well enough, but I’d like a beam sword if they can spare one for me.”

“I’m sure they can,” he said. “Programs might object to your being armed, though.”

“Programs already object that I exist,” Quorra remarked. “I’m not doing this for their gratitude. This system is worth saving, even if it doesn’t want me here.”

“I understand,” said the Nameless. They walked on, heading over and down a ridge that led to the Outpost’s perimeter road. Once they ascertained no one was coming, they crossed the road and entered the quarantine chamber of the western gate.

Karpin waited for them there, a medtech and several sentries behind him. “That the Iso?” he asked sharply, nodding at Quorra. She held his gaze as he glared at her; he looked away first.

“She is,” the Nameless confirmed. “I trust you know the Council’s will regarding her?”

“Heard it wasn’t the full Council’s will,” Karpin grumbled.

“The majority’s will is still the Council’s will,” the Nameless said. “Would you defy them?”

Karpin scowled, then punched the panel that opened the chamber doors, allowing the Nameless and the others in, as well as the medtech from the other side. “I won’t say I’m happy about it,” he remarked, still scowling. “I heard they put you in charge of protecting her. Tell me, Nameless, how are you going to protect her from half the programs in this Outpost? They’d all like to see her bits spilled out on the ground.”

The Nameless stared at Karpin a moment, trying to decide how best to proceed. He was a former loyalist, of course, as his red circuitry proclaimed to all who saw him. It was also readily apparent that he agreed far more with Conin than Edis. Still, he seemed to know his job was on the line as far as welcoming Quorra was concerned, so there was no need to take a hard line with him.

“I’ll do my best,” the Nameless said at last. “You know most programs know better than to cross me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Karpin said. “But they’ll be weighing that against how much they want her derezzed. I think you’ll be surprised how many go after her.”

“I’ll be there to stop them when they do,” the Nameless replied. “And she can take better care of herself than you might think.”

Karpin had nothing to say to that, and the Nameless turned away from him, watching the medtech as she worked her way through the Users and Quorra. They’d had little risk of infection where they were in the Outlands, but there was no such thing as an overabundance of caution. Everyone had to be checked, no matter how safe they thought they were.

It took about twenty micros to check them all over; they one and all were clean. Karpin scowled again, then opened the quarantine partition to let them in. The sentries surrounded Sam, Ed, and Quorra, and the Nameless took the lead position. Their next stop was Edis’ office.

**ooo**

Though the Nameless took a fairly roundabout way to Edis’ office, there still were more programs in the corridors than there had been on their departure. None of them moved to attack their party; either they’d been warned to leave the Users and Quorra alone, or else they thought better of going up against the Nameless and five sentries. They still made their opinions known, jeering at the Users and shouting at Quorra that she was a virus, a glitch, a plague. Some of them even went after the Nameless, calling him traitor and tyrant. He ignored them, and so did the others. 

They had to hustle through a knot of protesters to enter Edis’ office. More sentries in the entryway parted the crowd, and they made it through unscathed. The guards by the door let them in immediately, and they filed in while their sentries stayed behind.

The Nameless was surprised to see Rho standing in the office as well as Axel and Edis, but realized he shouldn’t have been. She was their preferred messenger, and given what had happened during and after the Council meeting, she doubtless had plenty of work to do. Rho glanced over her shoulder when they entered the office, but only acknowledged them with a nod before turning back to Edis and Axel. “She thinks I’m misrepresenting her to you,” she said. “Which… hardly, but she wanted to make sure I told you that.”

“I see,” Axel said.

Edis scowled. “Atana seems bent on wasting our time these last few decicycles. All those messages she’s sent, feigning interest in helping the Users when all she wants to do is use them for her own ends… I am growing weary of it.”

“We can’t tell her that,” Axel pointed out.

“Oh, I know,” he replied, sighing. “You’re dismissed, Rho.” Rho nodded, and left the office with a whispered “good luck” to the Nameless.

“On to other matters.” Edis turned his attention towards the Nameless and the others. “I can see your excursion to the Outlands was fruitful. Rho says the appearance of the I/O tower has excited quite a few programs around here. And the Iso has arrived safely as well. Welcome back. I assure you that the Nameless and the Council will do everything our power to ensure your safety.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” Quorra said. “I’d like a beam sword to protect myself from any attacks, if that’s all right. It would be in addition to whatever security the Nameless devises, of course.”

“Some programs might not like that,” Axel said. “Your being armed might lead some to see you as a threat.”

Quorra shrugged. “The Nameless said the same thing. They already don’t like me. I don’t see how things can get worse than they already are, to be honest.”

“You’ll get your weapon,” Edis replied. “If you know how to wield it, you might give some programs pause before they attack you.”

“I’m not useless in a fight,” Quorra remarked with a smile. “How do you think I survived this long?”

Edis actually smiled in return. “That’s good to hear. So, Users, when does your experiment begin? You said you needed to infect her to be sure that she could fight off the virus.”

“We’ll get to that,” Sam said, stepping forward. “But first… there’s a question of accommodations. Ed and I can’t keep going forever; we’ll need somewhere to sleep and get our energy back. We’ll also need somewhere to work if Quorra can stop the virus. I don’t want to take housing from programs who need it,” he added. “People already don’t like us being here, and it’ll just make things worse if we’re seen taking space that could go to others. We don’t need an answer right away, but once the experiment is done, we’re gonna need somewhere to stay.”

Axel and Edis exchanged a look.”Do you—” Axel began, but Edis spoke over him.

“They can have my apartment,” he said. Axel stared at him, but Edis waved him off. “You know as well as I that I hardly spend time there anymore, Axel,” he went on. “Do you need this sleep often, then?” he asked Sam and Ed.

“Users need about one millicycle of sleep every two millicycles,” Quorra said before Sam could answer. “Since I came to the Users’ world, I need sleep, too, but less of it and less often. Energy rations would probably help a little, but Users need to sleep in a way programs don’t. If they don’t get enough sleep, their functionality decreases dramatically, and they could die.”

Sam glanced at Quorra, his expression caught between amusement and confusion. “What have you been reading?”

“A lot, since I found myself doing something I didn’t need to do before,” Quorra replied.

“All right,” Edis said. “I’ll get another bed compiled in there, for your use. But you have to go back out soon? To conduct your experiment?”

“Yes,” Sam said. “What about a workspace for us?”

“We’ll find something in the administrative sector,” Axel said. “I may give you my office. Seems I’m hardly there of late. We’ll have something sorted out by the time this experiment of yours is over.”

“Thank you,” Sam said. He turned back to the others. “Are we ready to go?”

“I don’t see any avoiding it,” Ed replied.

“I’m ready,” Quorra said quietly. “As I can be, anyway.”

“Then I guess we’re going. Thank you again for your help,” Sam said to Axel and Edis. “Lead the way, Nameless.”

The Nameless nodded, and in short order they left the office and set out for another gate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not posting an update last month. Depression kind of ate my life and motivation; you know how it is. I am hoping (emphasis on hoping) to maintain a monthly update schedule into the future.
> 
> Thank you, as ever, for reading; I appreciate it greatly.


	11. The Experiment

**PART TWO: PRODROMAL  
CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE EXPERIMENT**

**Millicycle One**

The Nameless led them to an infected area a short lightrunner ride east of the Outpost. He and Ed waited by the lightrunner, at the edge of the infected zone. The Nameless could not risk getting infected without a cure or vaccine ready; he suspected Ed was afraid of infection as well, though the virus had shown no signs of being able to infect Users. Still, he said nothing to the User as they waited, watching Quorra and Sam wander the infected zone.

Sam had explained a little what they were going to attempt to do, in terms of how it happened with Users. Users could be infected by their own viruses if infectious material made it into an open wound. They would be trying the same thing with Quorra: giving her an open wound—in this case a minor abrasion from her disc—and applying the broken down code of the Outlands soil to it.

The Nameless couldn’t get a read on how Quorra felt about this whole plan, but she raised no objections; obviously they had discussed it before they’d even returned to the Grid. Still, he had to wonder how she felt, being asked to put herself at risk for a system that mostly wanted her derezzed and gone.

**Millicycle Three**

The Nameless stood, waiting and watchful.

The User Ed had coded something resembling a bed out of the Outlands rock, and was silent and unmoving, presumably sleeping. He’d said very little to the Nameless as they’d watched Quorra and Sam, but his last words had been, “Ugh. I’ve slept on rocks more comfortable than this.” 

He’d gone to sleep anyway.

Sam and Quorra sat on the ground in the infected area, talking quietly. They passed her disc back and forth frequently. From what the Nameless could see, Sam appeared to be checking her code for signs that the virus had taken hold.

He glanced at Ed, who seemed safe enough for the moment. He headed into the infected zone, picking his way carefully to avoid the worst parts of the infection.

Sam and Quorra both looked up as he approached. “What’s up?” Sam asked.

“I just wanted to know how things are progressing,” the Nameless said. “It’s been a couple millicycles. I’m sure Axel or Edis will be sending a messenger down soon enough, with energy rations if they’re forward thinking enough.”

“The virus is in her system,” Sam said. “But it’s not… doing anything. I’m starting to wonder if it’s even compatible with her code. We may have been wrong about it being biodigital, even though…”

“We had two days,” Quorra pointed out gently. “If we were wrong, it’s because we were rushed, not because of some fatal flaw on our part. It had the right structure, the right feel. It may be taking longer because it’s never infected an Iso before. Our code structure is completely different from ordinary programs’.”

“That’s a good point,” the Nameless said.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Yeah. I just—” He shook his head. “God, it feels like I haven’t slept in three days.”

“That’s because you haven’t,” Quorra said with a wry smile. “Go over there and make a bed. Get some rest. I’ll be fine out here. Better if this messenger brings rations.”

Sam stared at Quorra for nearly a micro before he finally slumped in defeat. “All right. You sure you’ll be okay?” 

“Sure,” Quorra said with a nod and a smile. Sam managed half a smile in return. Then he got to his feet, with a little help from the Nameless, and trudged back out of the infected area.

It took him just a couple micros to build a bed, mostly by tapping a few things in the Outlands code and holding one arm out in front of him. The result was low to the ground, but Sam fell into it with a grateful sigh. It looked a great deal more comfortable than Ed’s attempt, but the Nameless wasn’t about to tell either of them that.

He looked back at Quorra. She sat with her arms wrapped around her legs, and her chin on her knees.

She looked desolate.

**Millicycle Four**

Rho had been offered a lightcycle for the trip out to the Users’ encampment in the Outlands, but she refused it. Though her mission for Edis and Axel wouldn’t take long, she felt that the Outpost should have full use of all its resources, and anyway, she didn’t want to jostle the bag of rations she’d been sent with as well. The carafe of energy was sealed and coded to be unbreakable, but the glasses were a bit more fragile. Though she hated the silence of the Outlands, Rho welcomed it now. It was better than the voices that stalked her through the Outpost corridors.

She didn’t know how it had gotten out that she’d become the leaders’ personal message runner, but it had. Probably thanks to her former friends, the ones who thought she was full of herself because she kept the Users’ secrets. The words “traitor” and “tyrant” followed her wherever she went, and while she kept her head high and carried on, it still got to her. She’d spent nearly half a millicycle before this assignment just sitting in her apartment, which was empty now that the Xenon program Merrill had been given her own quarters in the newest wing of the Outpost. Rho had that time to herself—she could have done anything with it. She could have gone to the club. She could have gone and bothered Halix about getting on the roster for border patrol. She could have done a lot of things.

But she didn’t.

When she’d entered the message runners’ office with a summons from Edis, she grinned. This trip gave her something to do, and more importantly, it would get her out of the Outpost and away from the whispers and stares of her fellow programs.

Rho could see the Users’ borrowed lightrunner up ahead, and could just make out the Nameless’ silhouette. He had so little circuitry on his armor, he was sometimes hard to see, especially out here. The edge of the infected territory went almost right up to the lightrunner. Rho tamped down on her nervousness. She survived Tron City unscathed, and she knew the chance of infection from the general landscape ran fairly low. Everything would be fine.

“Greetings, programs!” she shouted by way of a greeting. The Nameless turned as if he’d been expecting her, but the User beside him—Ed, she thought—jumped and stumbled backward a step or two. The other User and the Iso Quorra sat well into the infected zone, and looked up at her, but did not approach.

She saw why as she got closer: Quorra was infected. Even from a distance, Rho could make out the streaks of red in her circuitry, and saw zigzag lines of red on her face. Rho stopped short, the bag holding the carafe and glasses slipping off her shoulder and swinging from her elbow.

“It’s all right, Rho,” the Nameless said, going forward to meet her. “She’s not going to come any closer.”

“I kn—sorry,” Rho said, swallowing. “Sorry. I just—I haven’t seen infection that bad since the end of the war. They always looked like that before—”

“I know,” the Nameless said, clasping her shoulder briefly. “Sam thinks there’s signs of her fighting it off. I imagine that’s what Edis and Axel sent you out here for?”

“What? Oh, yes.” Rho shook her head and forced herself to look away from Quorra, who didn’t need to be stared at on top of everything she was going through. “Yes, Edis wants a status report. And also wanted me to deliver this to you all.” She held up the bag, then set it on the ground to open it and show what she had brought. “There should be enough energy in here to hold you for the rest of the centicycle, if you’re going to be out here that long.”

“Thank you.” The Nameless took the carafe from her, and she handed him the glasses as well. “Sam,” he called. Sam looked over at them. “Edis wants a report. Come over here.”

Sam nodded. He said something inaudible to Quorra, who nodded in turn. Then he stood and jogged over to where they stood, out of the infected area. “What’s Edis want to know?”

“We need to know if this plan of yours is working,” Rho said, quoting what Edis had told her. “Has the infection been successful? Is the Iso fighting it off as you predicted? Or will other action need to be taken?”

“It seems to be working,” Sam replied. “We think. Quorra is infected, but she’s showing signs of fighting it off. Human signs, mostly. User,” he amended on seeing Rho’s expression. “Human is what we call ourselves.”

“What kind of signs?” Rho asked. “Anything we’d be familiar with?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “She has a fever, and those weird marks on her skin.” Rho evidently looked even more confused, because he went on, “A fever is when our body temperature goes up. It means her body is trying to kill off the virus by making the environment unsuitable for it.”

“I understand… I think. I’ll let Edis know what’s going on,” Rho said as the Nameless straightened up, holding a pair of full glasses in his hands. He handed one to Sam.

“Drink,” he said. “You’ve been up almost nonstop, except for that little rest before the infection kicked in. You need it.”

Sam eyed the glass a moment, then knocked back an enormous gulp. He winced as he swallowed. “Damn. What’s in this stuff?”

Rho blinked at him. “It’s just a basic energy cocktail, good for exhaustion.”

“It feels like I stuck my tongue into an electrical socket,” Sam replied. “I mean, I feel better, but… Damn.”

Rho stared at him.

The Nameless had handed Ed the other glass. He took a cautious sip, and made a similar face as Sam had. “That tastes like Red Bull on speed,” he said. “Dear god.”

“More like Four Loko on speed,” Sam said. “It burns like alcohol.”

Ed took another sip. “Fair point. Tastes better than Four Loko, though.”

Sam looked incredulous. “ _You’ve_ had a Four Loko? You don’t seem the type.”

“It was on a bet,” Ed said sourly. “The compsci interns said I wouldn’t be able to code worth a damn after chugging one.”

Sam laughed. “Did you win the bet?”

Ed smirked. “Yes.”

Sam laughed again, and held his glass out to Ed. Ed clinked his glass against Sam’s, and they both took another gulp of energy, laughing together when they both winced again.

Rho glanced down at the Nameless, who had busied himself with another glass. “Did you understand a word of that?” she asked quietly.

“No,” he replied. Sam and Ed evidently heard him and laughed again. “Sam,” the Nameless continued as though nothing had happened, “I need you to take this over to Quorra. She probably needs it.”

“Right,” Sam said. He drained his glass with another wince, then took the full one the Nameless offered him. Rho watched as he walked over toe Quorra, who had moved a few paces closer to them. “Here you go,” Sam said to Quorra, who slowly took the glass with both hands.

“Thank you,” she said, taking a sip. She said something else to Sam that Rho couldn’t make out. Sam smiled and responded quietly, and Rho looked away. They probably wouldn’t take kindly to her eavesdropping. She turned back to the Nameless, who now had his own glass of energy.

“How bad do you think it really is?” she asked.

“Sam’s not concealing anything,” he replied. “Not that I’m aware of. I can’t check that he isn’t, of course, but I trust him. She is infected, and badly, but she hasn’t become corrupted. That’s a good sign, if nothing else.”

“I hope so,” Rho replied. She turned back and watched Quorra and Sam for a couple micros, then excused herself. She had to report back to Edis and Axel.

The walk back to the Outpost felt more forlorn than the walk out. Rho liked the Users and Quorra, and the Nameless had always treated her well. She wished she could say the same of the programs back home.

**Millicycle Five**

Quorra had not been looking well for some time now. The Nameless could only observe from a distance, but when Sam had built a bed for her and made her lay down, he knew things were worsening, not getting better. The Nameless had rationed out half the carafe of energy already, most of it going to Quorra. Rho had come and gone again with another report on their progress.

Sam didn’t want to say how bad things were. The Nameless had approached the border of the infected area to observe, and he didn’t like what he saw. Quorra’s circuitry flickered weakly between white and red, and her exposed skin was covered in a grid-like pattern of infection. Even her eyes had turned red. It was far more advanced than the Nameless had ever seen in any infected program, and while that may have just been a result of her being an Iso, it did not encourage him.

The Nameless stopped Sam when he came out of the infected zone for a drink of energy. “Sam.”

Sam, who had slept very little since Quorra had become fully infected, looked at him, dark shadows under his eyes and a weariness in his expression.

“Are you prepared to do what needs to be done if she corrupts?” the Nameless asked.

Sam blinked at him. “What?”

“If she corrupts, she will need to be derezzed.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “You aren’t—”

“If you aren’t willing to do it, then I will,” the Nameless said. “We can’t risk any scrap of infection making it back to the Outpost, do you understand? I’m beginning to realize what she means to you, but if she doesn’t survive—”

“You’ll finish Clu’s dirty work?” Sam said darkly.

The Nameless stiffened. Memories swirled, threatening to rise, and instinct surged forward—

He stopped himself. He closed his eyes. Centered himself on the here and now. Opened them again.

“I’m going to assume you said that because you’re tired and not thinking,” he said evenly.

Sam glared at him, but his anger broke after a moment. He sagged and ran a hand down his face. “I—I’m sorry, Tron—sorry, sorry, I know you don’t—”

“You’re tired,” the Nameless said again. “It’s… all right. You’re not doing Quorra any good running yourself this hard, Sam. Get a drink, and then lay down and get some rest. Quorra will be fine.”

Sam’s eyes grew glassy. “I can’t lose her,” he said hoarsely. “She’s the only one—she was with Dad all those years in the Outlands, she knows—she’s all I’ve got, just about. And I’m all she has out there.”

“I understand,” the Nameless said. “Get some rest, Sam. I’ll check on her in a hundred micros, all right?”

Sam nodded. “All right. All right.” He shook his head, then trudged past the Nameless to the energy carafe. The Nameless watched as he poured himself a little energy and knocked it back, then walked unsteadily over to his bed and laid down.

The Nameless then turned his gaze towards Quorra. She lay on her own bed with her back to him. Her circuitry still flickered, but he noticed the light around the inside of her disc remained clear and white.

He chose to find some hope in this, because otherwise there was no hope at all.

**Millicycle Six**

When Quorra began glowing, even the Nameless was alarmed. He pulled out his disc, ready for the worst, for the light was white tinged with red, but Quorra did not stir. Instead he walked over to where Sam still slept and gently woke him.

Sam startled into consciousness, and blinked blearily at the Nameless. “Tron? What—?”

“Something’s happening,” the Nameless said. “I think you should go and check on Quorra.”

He sat bolt upright at that, and half fell out of the bed in the scramble to get to his feet. He strode with a purpose out into the infected zone, and did not seem to notice that the Nameless followed him. The Nameless kept a grip on his disc, ready to derezz Quorra if this was a sign of her full corruption.

Sam tried to wake Quorra, but she didn’t respond to him, even when he gripped her by the shoulders and shook her. She still glowed, and the light was white and seemed to be concentrated on her left arm. Where the Mark of the Isos would be, the Nameless realized.

“I don’t—what’s going on?” Sam muttered. 

“Check her disc,” the Nameless said. “It’s the only way to be sure.”

Sam looked at him, and his eyes shifted to the disc in his hand. “Sure of what?” he asked.

The Nameless said nothing.

Sam rolled Quorra on her side and undocked her disc, which glowed nearly as brightly as the rest of her. He opened the disc, revealing her base code. With one shaking hand he tapped the isohedron here and there, zooming further and further in until the code resolved itself in a shimmering triple helix. The code was red, deep red, but there was one last patch of white, which Sam had focused in on.

Sam’s expression tightened. The Nameless wordlessly ignited his disc. They had to be ready.

The world seemed still for a nano. The Nameless clenched his jaw. He was ready. He would do it, he had to—

A segment of the infected code turned white.

Sam’s eyes widened.

After a micro, another segment flickered from red to white.

“Oh my god,” Sam murmured. 

The Nameless’ disc went out as his hand went slack. “You were right.”

“We were right,” Sam repeated. “ _WE WERE RIGHT!_ ” He surged to his feet, whooping loud enough to be heard back at the Outpost as he ran out of the infected area and over to where Ed slept. “Ed! Ed, wake up, we were right!”

The Nameless looked down at where Quorra still slept. She glowed still, but more uniformly white. Her code was turning back the infection, bit by bit. She had risked her life and emerged victorious. She could save them all, whether the Outpost liked it or not.


End file.
